


something in the language of trees

by scarletbluebird



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Missed Connections, Mutual Pining, SKAM Secret Santa, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbluebird/pseuds/scarletbluebird
Summary: Meet Isak Valtersen: Premed student by day, insomniac shit poet by night. Future doctor? Who the fuck knows.He’s passing through the main square when he sees it, pinned up to the message board. Bright pink and flapping in the wind. At first he thinks he’s misread so he stops and back tracks, pressing the paper flat against the board. Nope, it still says the same thing:looking for a friend for my 23 year old son. Pays 500kr/wk. serious inquiries only please.“What the fuck?” He squints at it, suspiciously. Could it be some weird project the psych kids are doing?He waffles for a moment but ultimately decides to take a picture of the flyer with his phone. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say. Plus, Eskild is gonna start selling his stuff online while Isak is away in class if he doesn’t start paying his portion of the rent on time. He tells himself he doesn’t actually have to call the number as he shuffles his way to class.AU where Isak's job really was to be Even's friend





	something in the language of trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alene/gifts).



> Happy holidays to my secret santa Alene / [ tristealven](http://tristealven.tumblr.com) !! I hope you like this! Find me on tumbler as [kausaustralis](https://kausaustralis.tumblr.com)
> 
> PS: Isak's movie to Even is at the end of the story; you'll know what I mean
> 
> PPS: I hate AO3 formatting. This is the second time posting this because it cut off my story midway. Why. Why? Just...why. So much hate. Picture me as Hades with his hair FLAMING. As a result, I had to make some changes which annoy me but whatever.

something in the language of trees

April 2018:

 

 

Dear Even,

 

I’m sitting on the tram on the way to your apartment to give Elias this letter. Outside it’s beginning to snow. Soon it will be 21:21 and I want to tell you so many things. I wish I were brave and I told you the truth in the beginning, instead of letting you walk away thinking I never cared for you.

I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was afraid of losing you but it turns out that happened anyway. If I were braver, I would have said: I’m in love with you. If I were braver, I would have said: please don’t go.

I wrote your movie, but please don’t feel any obligation to read it. I wish I was selfless enough not to give it to you.

In some universe, I hope I deserve you.

Love you.

Isak

 

* * *

 

 

The wind spoke to me through the leaves - something in the language of trees. It was your name and the sounds of your footsteps in the rain, and how I couldn’t make myself say _I_ _love you_ -

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

October 2017:

 

 

“-listen you have to come,” Jonas is saying, voice tinny through the mobile, “if for no other reason than to watch Magnus strike out for the millionth time. Fuck Isak, he thought a girl was waving at him last week but it turned out she was waving at a group of people behind us. He tried to hide behind a trashcan when he realized. I almost cried it was so fucking funny.”

 

Isak shakes his head, snorting. “Seriously, he actually waved?” He makes his way to the chemistry building slowly, enjoying the hot afternoon sun against his face. There are groups of students sprawled out on the wide steps, paper detritus around their feet, raucous laughter intermittently filling the air.

 

Isak nods at a few people he recognizes, but most of the students hanging around don’t seem to be in the science program. When the hell did the chem steps become so popular?

 

“Yea, he actually waved.” Jonas is still laughing, “I’m telling you bro it was a new low for him. I feel bad, but since Vilde started dating Eva he just hasn’t been the same. I think he’s afraid he turns girls gay or something stupid like that.”

 

Isak finds an empty step and sits down with a huff. He’s got about ten minutes to kill before his class and it’s a three hour lab tonight…needless to say he wants to spend as much time outside as he can before that.

 

“Anyway, the party is this Friday at some theater kid’s house and you’re coming.”

 

“I don’t know…I have a big lab report due next Monday…” Isak says slowly, eyeing a group of particularly loud girls three steps in front of them. Jeez. Why is it that girls in groups always equaled loud? He lets his eyes drift away as they start clapping their hands about something.

 

“Noooo Isak, I’m not taking no for an answer! You haven’t been out with us yet this semester-“

 

“Jonas believe me I know,” Isak rolls his eyes, “It’s not like I make the assignments.”

 

“So take a Friday off,” Jonas sighs. “You gotta cut yourself a break man or you’re gonna burn out.”

 

“Oh God, you sound like Eskild,” Isak groans. “Fine, fine I will see what I can do but no promises.”

 

“Alright Issy! I am holding you to it.”

 

“No promises!” Isak repeats and then hangs up before Jonas can say anything else. He takes his snap back off for a minute to run his hands through his hair. It’s getting too long again, curling behind his ears in the breeze. Jesus, he feels like hell. When was the last time he’s slept through the night? August? Time’s been funny since he started university. It’s like he glanced down the first day of classes and back up and the leaves have changed from green to orange, the cold smell of impending winter creeping into the air. It’ll be Halloween in two weeks and Isak doesn’t know where September went.

 

He checks the time on his phone, and blows out a sigh when he sees he only has five minutes left.  He puts his hat back on and looks up. There’s a group of guys sitting at the foot of the steps laughing and shoving each other. Isak feels a sharp bite of nostalgia rise up in his stomach. Damn, he’s got to go out with the boys this Friday.  He feels like he’s crawling out of his skin.

 

Isak shakes himself out of his exhausted stupor and realizes he’s been staring at one of the boys on the steps and the boy is watching him back.

 

Face hot with embarrassment, Isak glances down at his phone. He thumbs his screen unseeingly for a moment before risking a glance up from under his eyelashes and yup the boy is still looking at him. Fuck. When their eyes meet, the boy tilts his head and a slow smile curls up his mouth and wow he’s got a bright grin, like the sun peaking out from behind the clouds. Isak knows he’s staring like an idiot now but he can’t seem to make himself move -

 

“Isabel,” He jumps in surprise and turns to glance up at Sana who is standing behind him, her hands on her hips. “We’re gonna be late. Tan later, class now.”

 

“Arrgh,” Isak groans, but he can’t help but smile up at her. “How have you been, best bud?”

“Better than you no doubt,” Sana’s smirk softens and her brows crinkle. “have you been sleeping at all?”

 

“Occasionally,” Isak quips, getting to his feet. He shoves his phone in his pocket, glancing behind him as he does so. The boy has looked away. Something inside of him curdles, and he shakes his head at himself and turns to follow Sana up the steps.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Five hours later he’s squinting down at his biochem book, trying for the nth time to write out the correct mechanism for carbonic anhydrase when Eskild slams into his closed bedroom door.

 

“What the fuck?” Isak yells and grits his teeth as his door swings open.

 

“Ah damn, I thought that the door was open a crack,” Eskild rubs at his shoulder with an exaggerated pout. “I think I may have permanently injured my shoulder.”

 

“Well it would serve you right for barging in here uninvited.” Isak snaps, hastily moving his notebook out of the way as Eskild collapses on his bed.

 

“Sooooo sweet,” Eskild pokes him with his toe, making Isak roll his eyes. They lay together for a moment in silence before Eskild sits up.

 

“In all seriousness,” He drawls, “When was the last time you cleaned your sheets?”

 

“Get out.” Isak starts to swat him with his notebook. “I am doing very important things-“

 

“What like jerking off? Your hand will start cramping if you do it anymore-” Eskild yelps as Isak starts to hit his head with the notebook.

 

“OUT!” He shouts and Eskild rolls off the bed in a pile of gangly limbs.

 

“Touchy,” Eskild trills, when he pulls himself up. He practically skips to the door. He’s exuding cheer, like he’s completed his life’s work in harassing Isak. Isak thinks he probably has. “Oh by the way baby gay, you’re late on your rent...” His face goes abruptly serious. “I can cover you again but Issy, I can’t afford to do this every month.”

 

“I know,” Isak mumbles, anxiety rising like a balloon in his throat. “I’m sorry Eskild, I’m working on it.” Truthfully, he’s been too exhausted after school to think much about finding a job. The strangely long hours of the night are spent in a weird fugue state, in the liminal grey world of ‘what ifs’. Isak dreads those ‘what ifs’ almost as much as he hates the ‘should haves’.

 

“Do you want me to put in a word with my friend Oskar?”

 

“No, no, I have some leads on jobs,” Isak lies, moving to reorganize his notebooks around him. “Thanks though.”

 

“Okeeee,” Eskild looks at him for a moment, leaning on the doorframe.

 

Isak raises his eyebrows at him and Eskild sighs,

 

“Okay, okay I’m leaving jeez.” He backs away down the hall.

 

“And close the door!” Isak yells after him, shaking his head before turning back to his book. He gets lost in his lab work for some time but the buzzing of his phone coming from somewhere in the bowels of his bed pulls him out of his thoughts on amino acids. He sighs and thumbs on his phone. He’s got three missed texts:

 

 **Mama (20:43):** but love your enemies do good to them and lend them without expecting to get anything back then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the most high becuse he is kind to the ungrateful andwicked.

 

Isak bites his lip but ultimately doesn’t answer her. God, he’s a jackass.

 

 

 **Jonas (22:56) :** yo bro you alive? We’re hittin it at mine, come over

 

 **Magnus (23:01):** bring my blue hoodie. Think I forgot it over there last gaming dayu

 

Can’t come over if you want any chance of me going out friday

 

 

Fuck how can it be almost midnight? He drops his phone onto the bed and takes a second to pull his hair, relishing the sting of tears it brings to his eyes. Then he slumps back over his books. He’ll give himself until 2, then he’ll put the books away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

3:30 am and he’s scrolling mindlessly through instagram’s space hashtag, staring at the big picture NASA just released of Jupiter. The universe is so fucking crazy. His life may be shit, but he’s just a little mote of dust in an infinite amount of space. He rubs a hand across his eyes. It’s almost comforting to think that all in all, he isn’t that important. So what if he fails a gross anatomy practical? So what if he hasn’t talked to his parents in 10 and a half months? So fucking what if he can’t sleep? The world will keep turning just to spite him. He takes a screenshot of a nebula and makes it his lock screen.

 

4:45 am and he’s slipping on his shoes in a haze of exhaustion, moving slowly down the dark hallway so as not to wake his housemate. He goes down the narrow stairs and out into the night. It’s bitterly cold and his breath appears like a specter in front of his face. Isak pauses at the curb to inhale, letting the chill seep into his lungs, burn itself in his chest. The wind blows his sweaty hair off of his forehead.

 

He walks mindlessly for a long time, passing under the streetlights like a ghost. By the Oslofjorden his shaky legs lead him to a rickety bench and he looks out over the dark water, imagining the shape of the islands rising up towards the sky. He can almost make out the hazy outline of Hovedøya in the darkness. The water lapping against the dock sounds like a mournful creature in the night. He thinks: I can’t give up. He thinks: god, I’m so tired.

 

Around him the world slowly bleeds from a soft grey to purple, to cloudy pink.  He fingers the crumpled poem in his pocket and tries to let his mind drift. He’s so fucking exhausted his chest aches _. It would be so easy to run away_ , he thinks. But in the end, he sits and watches the sun rise.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He drags himself out of bed on Tuesday by 9 am and wants to cry as he pushes through the doors of the KB by campus. There’s a painfully long line that is moving at a snail’s pace. He pulls out his phone and opens his text messages. He thinks, is it too late? It’s probably too late. But she’d texted him the night before so maybe. Maybe she doesn’t hate him. He bites his lip and as he inches forward in the line he hesitantly, painstakingly types,

 

Hi mama, I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?

 

 

He watches the little series of grey bubbles, surprised. He didn’t think she’d respond so soon. He holds his breath.

 

 **Mama (09:47):** Isak, I am very glad to hear from you

Would you be free sometime this week to stop by?

 

 

                                                                                    I could come by Saturday?

 

 

Why did he text that? His palms are sweating all of a sudden. He’s staring at the phone so hard his eyes feel like they’re burning when the teller’s voice jerks him out of his stupor.

 

“Hi, what can I get you?”

 

“Uh, just a large black coffee please,” He says, looking up. Thank god he’d made his order because holy fuck it’s the boy from the steps. “You,” he blurts out before pressing his traitorous mouth together.

 

“Me,” the boy agrees, smiling. Up close Isak can see his eyes are the kind of blue that guts you. “And really? Black coffee?”

 

Isak stutters out a defensive, “What’s wrong with that?” 

 

The boy shrugs and leans against the register. God, he’s tall too? The universe is truly unfair.  “Nothing if you like the taste of burnt plastic.”  He tilts his head and his hair falls over his brow. It looks soft.

 

Isak gives a shaky laugh, “Aren’t you supposed to be promoting this place instead of saying the coffee is shit?”

 

“Eh,” the boy shrugs and then he does this thing Isak thinks is supposed to be a wink except both of his eyes close. “it’s not that serious.” He goes to reach for a cup. “Name?”

 

“Name? Oh uh, Isak?”

 

The boy squints at him, still smiling. “You don’t sound so sure about that,” He laughs, but he writes Isak’s name on the cup and passes it down the line to the harried looking barista.

 

“Even by the way,” the boy says, when Isak hands him the coins. Their fingers brushing feels like an electric current going down Isak’s arm.

 

“Huh?”

 

“My name,” The boy gestures at his name tag that up until now Isak had failed to notice. Sure enough, the crooked tag reads ‘Even’ in friendly gold letters.

 

“Oh.” Isak says dumbly.

 

“It was nice meeting you Isak,” Even smiles at him, before turning to the next customer in line, leaving Isak to shuffle his way down to the end of the counter, mind fizzing with the past five minutes. His phone vibrates in his hand and he sucks in a breath, suddenly reminded of what he had been doing before meeting. Even.

 

 **Mama (10:02):** that would be lovely. See you then. Kisses mama.

 

Oh. He realizes he’s smiling down at his phone. And when the barista calls out his name he looks up and catches the tail end of a glance from Even that makes the back of his neck go hot. He fumbles with his coffee cup and curses himself internally as some spills over his fingers in a flash of searing pain. Lovely. He nods his thanks to the barista and high tails it out of there before he can make any more of a fool of himself.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of three hour long lectures and a truly soul killing gross anatomy practical. Isak suffers through his required literature class where his professor drones on about something called existentialism and then races to grab a quick open sandwich at the cafeteria before biochem. He’s nearly late but thank god Sana has saved him a seat. She gives him a pitying look after she sees the bags under his eyes. He shrugs like, what can you do? and pulls out his laptop to queue up the lecture power point.

 

Before he knows it, he’s shuffling his way down Karl Johans gate towards home and his bed. It beckons like a siren, and Isak thinks he could sleep for a million years – but it’s always that way. He can sleep until he’s actually lying in bed. Then it’s like some switch has flipped in his brain and he just cannot. Turn. Off. His mind goes dark places. It’s that time of year again and as the night passes and the sound of rain patters against his window he finds himself rolling over and over in his duvet.

 

By 03:23 he’s desperate, digging around in the bathroom drawers for something he can take to knock him out. He finds one of Linn’s old prescription bottles for Trazodone and googles the drug. After skimming through a few paragraphs, he pours two, then three pills onto his shaky palm. He wanders down the hallway in the dark. _Isak,_ he thinks breath hitching in his chest, _Isak what are you doing?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

the story of a dream or the story of a dreamer

hands pushing through dark water,

long hours after, cold and bleak

who i was is not who i am is not who i have become.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Before his lab on Friday Isak goes to the cafeteria to grab lunch with Eva. He feels like he’s the sole of an old shoe, so he buys a big black coffee and sips it at one of the round tables in the café, waiting for Eva to show up. She arrives in a flurry of brightly colored skirts and waves at him frantically before going to buy her food.

 

“So what’s up with you,” Eva squints at him through a mouth full of noodles. They’ve gotten the niceties out of the way along with the shocking realization that they haven’t seen each other in almost three weeks.

 

“Sadly, not much.” Isak sighs down at his cheese sandwich. “School is really kicking my ass this semester.”

 

“That’s what happens when you have a big brain and pick a hard major,” She winks at him, reaching over to rip off a piece of his bread. “You and Sana both.”

 

“I know, I know,” Isak rolls his eyes and half-heartedly swats her hand when it drifts towards his pile of paprika chips. “Oi!” He hunches over his plate.

 

“Sharing is caring,” Eva sing songs as she thumbs out a text on her phone.

 

“So how’s Vilde doing?” Isak asks after a moment, ignoring her comment and licking paprika from his fingers.       

 

“She’s good!” Eva’s face brightens like someone has turned a lamp on inside of her. “She’s in love with her class this year. She has this art project she’s making now with the kids, it’s paper mâché hats. She’s  making a huge mess in the living room,” Eva throws up her hands, but she’s grinning and her eyes are shining. “I love it.”

 

“Nice.” For a moment, Isak lets himself wonder what that would be like. To have someone there when he got home, to curl up with under the covers on cold nights, to read with on the couch when it rains. Then he rolls his eyes at Eva and pushes his plate of chips towards her, hunger forgotten. She dives into them with enthusiasm and Isak pulls out his phone to see a slew of texts from the boys; mostly nonsense and an all caps reminder from Jonas that they will be at his flat at 19:00, no if ands or buts. Isak heaves a sigh and clicks his phone off.

 

“Yo Ev’s, I gotta go,” He says, getting up from the table. “I’m gonna try to jet through this lab tonight and pregame with the boys.”

 

“Oh, who’s having a party? I’m so there.” Eva says, through a mouthful of fries.

 

Isak shrugs, “I don’t know. Some theater kids I think? Text Jonas, he knows the details.” He gives her a fist bump and heads out, nearly plowing into a kid carrying his food tray. “Sorry, sorry,” Isak makes a face at Eva who is laughing at the table, and heads out into the hallway.

 

He’s passing through the main square when he sees it, pinned up to the message board. Bright pink and flapping in the wind. At first he thinks he’s misread so he stops and back tracks, pressing the paper flat against the board. Nope, it still says the same thing:

 

**looking for a friend for my 23 year old son. Pays 500kr/wk. serious inquiries only please.**

“What the fuck?” He squints at it, suspiciously. Could it be some weird project the psych kids are doing?

 

He waffles for a moment but ultimately decides to take a picture of the flyer with his phone. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say. Plus, he's pretty sure Eskild is gonna start selling his stuff online while Isak is away in class if he doesn’t start paying his portion of the rent on time. He tells himself he doesn’t actually have to call the number as he shuffles his way to class.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He gets out of lab late because Sana and he both wanted to be damn sure they’ve diluted the bacterial cultures accurately. As a result, his hands are stained with the saffron dye and he has a raging headache – probably due to dehydration since they can’t have water in the lab and he honestly doesn’t remember the last time he had a drink. Last night maybe?

 

At the tram stop he leans back against the side of the building and closes his eyes, letting the cold wind cut into his cheeks and bring some life back into his skin. He feels hollowed out, like an old shell that’s been picked and picked and picked on by sea birds. He’s reaching into his pocket for his phone when he realizes that his keys are missing.

 

“What the fuck?” There’s a mad scramble through his bag, then a forced calm search through the books and loose paper but nope, there’s no key. Isak abruptly feels like he’s going to cry, the pressure building up behind his eyes, and of _course_ that’s when the tram decides to pull up and he has to haphazardly throw all his books back into his bag and sniffle his way onto the bus, holding his backpack shut. The driver side eyes him as he swipes his card.

 

Of course the tram is packed, it being a Friday night in Oslo, so he balances precariously against a pole and finishes shoving his notes into his backpack, zipping it closed with a sigh. He pulls out his phone to text Eskild and braces himself for what he knows is coming.

 

                                                                        Hey are you home? I forgot my key

 

 **Eskild (17:35):** Um, come again?

 

                                                                                                                        Shut up

 

 **Eskild (17:36):** who was the one who lectured me last week about forgetting my keys and irresponsibility and me being old?

 

                                      Eskild, you forget your keys like every other day.

                                             I have forgotten them ONCE in 6 yrs. ONCE

 

 **Eskild (17:38):** this is not endearing me to your plight, issy.

 

 

 

 

Isak rolls his eyes. God Eskild is so dramatic sometimes it hurt.

 

                                                                                                so are you home or not?

 

 **Eskild (17:39):** no I have work until 22:00, sorry issy <3

 

 

“Fuck,” Isak heaves a sigh and shoves his phone into the pocket of his hoodie.

 

“Bad news?” He jumps and nearly chokes on his tongue when he glances up and realizes the person who has been standing next to him at the pole for the last five minutes is none other than Even.

 

“Hey,” He says back, wondering why every interaction with this gorgeous boy is so awkward. Doesn’t seem fair. Statistically, he should be able to see him at least once and act normal.

 

“You okay?” Even gestures in the general direction of his bag and glances over at him. In the lights of the tram, his eyes look electric blue. “You looked upset when you came on.”

 

“Oh, no I’m fine.”

 

“Yea?” Even says real slow, squints his eyes like he doesn’t believe him. Isak finds himself smiling before he’s consciously aware of it.

 

“Well...” He blows out a sigh. “I realized I forgot my key…and my roommate is working until 22 so.” He shrugs, bites his lip and hopes Even doesn’t think he’s too stupid. Above the rapid beating of his heart the tram driver calls out the next stop.

 

“Ah, I hate when that happens,” Even says charitably, though Isak doubts he’s ever done something like that. He looks away from Isak as people start to file into the tram, and bites his lip like he’s thinking. Isak tries not to be too obvious with his staring but it’s hard; Even’s profile is a thing of beauty. He manages to look away just as Even glances back towards him.

 

“So do you-“ Even’ starting to say when Isak’s phone rings causing them both to jump and laugh.

 

“It’s my roommate,” Isak says apologetically as he picks it up. “Eskild?”

 

“Okay, you owe me big time,” Eskild sounds out of breath. “Linn just agreed to meet you outside our place with the spare.”

 

“Oh?” Isak’s unaccountably disappointed. “Wait, she’s actually leaving her flat?”

 

“YES,” Eskild shouts, “And you had better be there because as you and I both know she only leaves her place twice a month max. I had to bribe her for goodness sakes.”

 

“Shit,” Isak looks towards the front of the packed tram. “Ok I have to go then, my stop is next,”

 

“YOU OWE ME,” Eskild yells as he hangs up. Isak chances a glance over at Even and finds him still smiling.

 

“Roommate to the rescue?” Even bites his chapped lower lip.

 

“Roommate to the rescue,” Isak agrees faintly, heart pattering in his chest. The tram operator trills his stop out over the PA. “Ah, I have to go.” He says, suddenly hating that Eskild came through for him.

 

“Shame,” Even says, and then – and Isak feels his face go hot – he winks at him. It’s most probably the worst wink Isak’s ever seen and he loves it.

 

“Ah,” Isak says, hefting his bag over one shoulder “Yea.”

 

“See you at school,” Even calls after him. Isak almost trips off the tram when he glances over his shoulder and nods.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Linn’s waiting for him at the steps of his flat and holds up her hand at his out of breath thanks.

 

“I know,” She sighs as she hands him the keys. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

 

Isak pulls off his beanie as he pushes open the door. “I won’t,” he says. “Thanks Linn.”  

 

She catches the keys he tosses at her and rolls her eyes but she agrees to come inside and let him make her tea.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Later that night, Isak and the boys sit around the kitchen table, a pile of empty beer cans surrounding them like strange idols. Isak leans back in his chair and rolls his eyes at Magnus who. Has. Not. Stopped. Talking. In. At. Least. Ten. Minutes.

 

“Lemme tell you, she was so fine,” Magnus is using his beer can like it’s a microphone. They’ve been pre-drinking for a while now and he’s well on his way past buzzed.

 

“How fine was she?” Jonas winks over at Isak as he urges Magnus on.

 

“She’s playing you,” Mahdi’s shaking his head fervently, looking as serious as one can with a Dorito sticking out of their mouth.

 

“Ahhh-“ Jonas starts clapping his hands-

 

“No,” Magnus gasps, he’s so surprised he almost crushes his beer can. “Isak, Isak what do you think? She’s not playing me right?”

 

“Hm?” Isak squints, trying to remember what they were talking about. Truth be told he’s thinking about the enormous biochem report waiting for him in his bedroom. Did he remember to write down that website Sana had been talking about? “I don’t know Magnus,” He says slowly. “Did she give you her number afterwards?”

 

“No,” Magnus pouts. Then he grins, “but she did accept my facebook friend request!”

 

Isak tilts his head, shares a look with Jonas. “I don’t know boys,” He drawls, “She might actually be into him.”

 

“Nooo,” Mahdi laughs.

 

“Boo Isak, boo,” Jonas shakes his head.

 

“I love you Isak!” Magnus shouts. He leans over the table and gives Isak this weird sort of half hug.

 

“Shhh, Jesus Magnus you’re spilling beer on me!” Isak pushes him away and he goes with a huff of laughter. Isak rolls his eyes and rubs at his wet pants. Great, now he’s gonna smell like beer for the rest of the night. He can’t help but laugh though at the face Magnus makes when he takes a sip of his beer and realizes it’s empty as a result. Jonas is hooting across the table.

 

“Shit,” Mahdi says, waving his hand at all the discarded beer cans. “I think we drank them all.”

 

“S’okay,” Jonas says through the end of his laughter. “We should probably get going anyway. I promised Eva we’d be there by 23:00.”

 

“Eva’s shitfaced at this point,” Magnus hiccups, as he stumbles around looking for his shoes. Isak finds his left one half way under the sofa and holds it out to him.

 

“Speak for yourself,” He laughs as they file out the door in a group of good cheer. It takes him a minute to lock the door, and then they’re filing down the steps, laughing loudly as Mahdi trips over his laces.

 

Outside it’s bitterly cold, and Isak tilts his head back to take a deep breath. The sky is clear, and as he exhales he looks up at the stars. _Vega is bright tonight,_ he thinks, before Jonas calling his name pulls his mind away from the vastness of space.

 

“Come on man,” Jonas waves at him. They’re already halfway down the street; Isak is falling behind, balancing on the edge of the curb. He jumps down and runs to join them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The party’s in full swing by the time they get there. Stragglers outside smoking, someone puking in the grass, the bass pulsing so loudly the air seems to vibrate as they push their way through the door and into the crowd. Mahdi and Magnus beeline towards the kitchen for more beer, Jonas eyes a couple of girls talking loudly in sequined dresses. He raises his eyebrows at Isak who rolls his eyes and motions for him to get out of there, and Jonas gives him a jaunty bow before meandering over to them. Alone, Isak stands for a moment, before going over to the table of liquor someone’s setup under the window.

 

He’s pouring some cheap vodka into a cup with soda when he hears Eva’s laugh and turns to find her close by. She’s also wearing a sparkly dress and Isak briefly wonders if there was some theme to the party he missed.

 

“Issaki!” Eva yells when she sees him, pressing her hand to her mouth like she’s keeping a secret. She raises the bottle of champagne up and sways towards him. When she falls into his arms a laugh rips out of her, “I meant to say Isyaki, how did I?” She trails off when she notices Vilde has materialized at her side. “Vilde, Vilde!”

 

Vilde has glitter all over her face and she glistens as Eva wraps her arms around her neck and starts kissing her face. “Hi Isak!” She chirps in that cheerful way of hers.

 

“Hey Vilde,” Isak says, charmed despite himself. The two of them are almost sickeningly cute. It’s disgusting - four years together and they’re still in the honeymoon phase.

 

“Isak!” Vilde squints at him with a grin.

 

“Was there,” Isak points at his eyes, “a theme I missed? With the glitter?”

 

“Hm? Oh good idea!” Eva is digging through her purse, squealing when she holds up a tube of makeup.

 

“No,” Isak holds his hands up, but it’s mostly in resignation. He can never turn Eva down when she’s got that glow in her eyes. He lowers his hands and squints up his eyes as Eva brushes something across his cheeks.

 

“So pretty!” She says when she’s done and Vilde and her wander off, arms around each other.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The room is like the entrance to another world, dark except for the strange flashes of strobe lights. The music is so loud Isak gets goosebumps. Someone’s turned on a projector screen and there’s a vibrant movie playing on the wall, but Isak can’t make out the images clearly. It looks like a double exposed film, strange shapes and specters of people. A curve of someone’s smile, figures moving under water. Isak stands mesmerized until he’s bumped into by the people dancing in a sweaty horde, then he pushes through the crowd to the back porch, cradling his beer can between his hands so it isn’t crushed.

 

For a minute he wonders where Jonas and the boys are and tries to remember the last time he saw them. On the stairs maybe? They’d smoked up in the hallway earlier and he and Mahdi had had a free style rap battle that had ended in wild laughter. He remembers Magnus’ loud laugh and then, hm. He rubs his eyes. Fuck he is way too high to try to figure it out.

 

“Isak?”

 

It takes a second for his weed clouded mind to register his name but he glances over and squints up at the boy – oh no.

 

“Oh no,” He says out loud.

 

“Oh no?” Even repeats, eyebrows raised. He’s grinning. He has glossy teeth, Isak thinks. Like a shark. There’s glitter in his hair.

 

He shakes his head, “I uh, don’t know? Fuck,” He says when Even starts laughing, “I am so high.” Maybe if he just concentrates hard enough he can sink through the front porch and all the way to the center of the Earth.

 

“I can tell,” Even’s still laughing. In the darkness of the porch his voice seems somehow louder and softer at the same time. “I was gonna offer you some of mine, but you’ve probably had enough.” Isak realizes he has a joint in his hand, long fingers holding it gracefully. Isak is captivated and he realizes too late that he’s staring like an idiot.

 

“Yea probably,” He says slowly, and Even laughs again. He starts walking down the steps and Isak makes to turn back to the house thinking, _oh that’s it_ , when Even hollers back at him –

 

“You coming?” 

 

Isak follows him out onto the sidewalk and Even lights up like he doesn’t give a fuck they’re on the side of the road and people are wandering in and out of the party. It’s magnetic, and Isak doesn’t hesitate to take the joint from him when he offers it.

 

“So you’re a first year?” Even asks, grinning over at him

 

“And you’re what, second year?”

 

“Last year,” Even laughs, “then the real world.”

 

“Jeez,” Isak coughs out a laugh, “what are you majoring in?”

 

“Film studies.”

 

“Film studies,” Isak squints. “Like directing?”

 

“Hm,” Even nods, blowing out a cloud of smoke. The curve of his neck is hard to look away from. “What about you?”

 

“Uh, science,” It’s all he can manage with his head spinning.

 

Even busts out laughing, “Just science?” His smile is like a spark of electricity.

 

Isak finds himself grinning out into the night. “Shut up.”

 

“So specific, Mr. Scientist.” Even bumps their shoulders together.

 

“What can I say,” Isak shrugs, watching the smoke leave his mouth. He’s desperately trying to come up with something witty but he has nothing. They stand silently for some minutes, passing the joint between them until it gets small enough that their fingers keep touching.

 

“So Mr. Scientist, did you do your own glitter?” Even touches his own cheek.

 

“Ah no,” Isak bites his lip, “my friend Eva did. I didn’t realize there was a glitter theme to this party.”

 

Even smiles and his eyes crinkle up, “I’m not sure there is a theme,” he laughs.

 

“What but she said-“ Isak stops and thinks back. “Fuck.”

 

Even’s laughing and after a minute Isak starts laughing too. So what if he’s covered in glitter and probably looks like a dumbass. So what.

 

Jonas comes to find him sometime later, when Even and Isak in the middle of heated debate about the merits of Nas and old school Eminem before he sold out- as Even kept saying over and over again.

 

“Hey man,” he says, slapping his shoulder. “you ready to go?”

 

“Sure,” He’s decidedly not ready to go, but he doesn’t know how to tell Jonas that without alerting Even. He widens his eyes, but Jonas is just as lit as him and doesn’t notice.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day when his alarm goes off, Isak fumbles desperately to turn it off before crawling back under the covers like a dead thing and curling into a ball. His head feels like it’s in a vice and there’s some dude beating on a drum inside of it, pounding his eyeballs to jelly.

 

It’s only sheer force of will that gives him the strength to breathe through his nose and sit up slowly.

 

“Jesus,” Eskild says, when he passes him in the hall. “Go back from whenst you came,” he gives a half ass sign of the cross and continues on his way towards the kitchen.

 

“Mmm, fuck you.” Isak mumbles, shuffling into the bathroom like a slug. He peels off his clothes and stands under the showerhead for a good ten minutes, slowly becoming something resembling human. He has to dive out of it to throw up in the toilet, and he swears that’s the last time he’s ever going to drink. He’s an adult now damn it, he should start acting like one.

 

He brushes his teeth and frowns at himself in the mirror, looks away and spits out the paste. Puts his hands on the countertop and takes a second to just breath deeply, filling up his lungs and trying to sigh out as big as possible. Shakes his head.

 

“Okay Isak,” he says under his breath. “Okay.”

 

Eskild is singing to himself in the kitchen as Isak sneaks his way out and schleps to the tram stop. He’s a couple of minutes early so he pulls out his phone intending to check NASA’s Instagram story for the day but he sees he’s got a text from an unknown number and when he opens it he nearly drops his phone. He’d been lit last night and barely remembers Jonas coming to drag him down the street, Even’s hand he thinks may have been on his shoulder, obviously they’d exchanged numbers at one point but he doesn’t remember –

 

“Damn it,” he reads the message:

 

 **Unknown (04:47):** hey this is even bech næsheim from last night. I’ve been promised a response :P

 

It had been sent at 4:47 am - what kind of person was sending texts at that unholy hour? Isak has no idea how to respond so he clicks his phone screen off and closes his eyes against the insistent pressure headache.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Taking the tram to his old house is strange, like going back in time to some half remembered dream that got all the details wrong. The house on the corner is painted red now, not blue. The neighbor has a new tree in the front yard that’s red with fall colors. Even his house looks different, unfamiliar in the stark morning light. The swing in the front yard that Lea had loved to play on is hanging by one rope, the other rotting on the ground.

 

Isak hunches his shoulders against the cold and makes his way up to the front door, bites his bottom lip and presses down the bell. He hears it buzz somewhere in the recesses of the house and listens to the soft patter of footsteps coming slowly towards the door. He takes a deep slow breath, in in, the wind picks up and the leaves rustle in the trees. _Isak, Isak you’re home-_

 

“Isak?” His mom squints up at him in the morning light. Her face is pale like she hasn’t been out in the sun in a long time, but her eyes are clear.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s good, seeing his mom. Surprisingly good. Hard memories drift between the both of them but they’re not as heavy as he’d been anticipating. Instead, his mom shows him the flowers she’s been cultivating along the kitchen window sills, the pot herbs she’s nurtured from cuttlings. Aina, the aide who stays with her, smiles at him from her spot on the couch and Isak realizes with a jolt that he’s the happiest he remembers being for a long time.

 

“This is the basil I’ve been growing,” his Mama says, hand shaky but sure, raising to touch soft against a leaf. “I think I’ve had it for almost a year now.”

 

“It looks great mama,” Isak smiles at her and Marianne smiles back.

 

“Let me show you the succulents I have in the other room,” She pinches his sleeve between her fingers and leads him down the hallway into the living room. It’s strange, standing in there next to the piano, and Isak has to consciously make himself relax his shoulders. But his mom doesn’t mention anything, and the lines around her eyes aren’t tight. Eventually he lets out a slow breath and watches her walk through the afternoon light.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not until the next morning when he’s lying in bed that he remembers the text and he pulls out his phone.

 

hey

 

He finally texts after about 10 minutes of agonizing. Then he drops his phone on his chest and groans, covering his eyes with his hands. After a moment his phone vibrates and he can feel his face flush violently even before he picks up the phone.

 

 **Even BN (08:22):** he speaks! I thought maybe my grade A weed had killed you.

 

HA I’m the master

 

 **Even BN (08:26):** Oh the master huh?

 

Yup

 

 **Even BN (08:32):** In that case, you should try this new bud I got

 

 

When?

 

* * *

 

 

“My my someone’s up early.”

 

Isak yelps and spills half of his bowl of cereal down his shirt. “Mother fucker!” He turns to glare at Eskild, who at least has the good grace to look sheepish.

 

“Yikes,” Eskild holds his hands up. “Sorry. Silver lining; that shirt was probably overdue for a wash.”

 

“Fuck. You.” Isak pulls the clinging shirt away from his stomach. It’s clammy and dripping down into his boxers. Wonderful. He may as well take another shower.

 

Eskild tutts his tongue, “Such language baby gay, and so early in the morning.”

 

“Yes, it’s early,” Isak snaps, dumping his bowl into the sink. “I have a lot of work to do seeing as someone kept me up half the night with his jungle music.”

 

Eskild busts out laughing. “Jungle music? Aw Isak, do you mean D and B?”

 

“Ugh,” Isak scoffs, pushing his way into the hall to pull off his shirt and throw it into the overflowing hamper. “You know what I mean,” he grumbles stomping towards his room.

 

“Have you found a job yet?” Eskild yells after him.

 

“I’m working on it Eskild!” Isak shouts back, slamming his door closed. He stands for a minute fuming at the unfairness of the universe before his shoulders slump and he shuffles towards his dresser. It takes longer than he’d like to admit to find a clean smelling shirt and he pulls the green cotton over his head with a sigh.

 

“Fuck,” He says aloud to his empty room. “I need to find a job.” 

 

And then he remembers.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He recognizes him immediately. Even.

 

“Oh,” He says stupidly because his brain isn’t producing anything but an internal scream.

 

“Yes, that’s my son,” Lara is looking down at the photo fondly. Her mouth is curved up in a half smile. Isak’s chest hurts just looking at her. He centers himself by looking out the window. It’s overcast and windy outside, and the leaves are kicking up in the wake of people bundled up in thick scarves and hats with pompoms. When he can breathe easier he looks back.

 

“I think I’ve seen him around,” he says and then presses his lips together before he spews out some shit like ‘I smoked up with him last week,’ or ‘he’s really pretty’ or ‘I’ve written about him’ or ‘I can’t think when I see him,-‘

 

“He’s a sweetheart, I say with no bias whatsoever,” Lara cuts into his thoughts. Isak laughs and turns his coffee cup in circles between his palms.

 

“I have to say,” he says after a moment of silence between them. “It didn’t seem like he was in need of friends.”

 

“Oh, he has a lot of friends,” Lara sighs, “but no one he’s particularly close to. He had a close-knit group at Bakka but not since…” she trails off like she’s run out of things to say.

 

“No offense but uh,” Isak scratches his head, trying to figure out a way of putting it without sounding like a total douche, “I feel kind of sleazy doing this.”

 

Lara nods like she knew that question was coming. “I get that,” She says slowly, “and I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I’m not asking that you get really close to him, but maybe talk to him?” She tilts her head and gives him a knowing look, “Could be that you both could use a friend.”

 

 _This woman_ , he thinks, _must really love her son_. He keeps spinning the coffee cup for a good minute, mulling it over. He still feels weird about it, but it’s not like he’s signing a contract in blood or anything. And he’s already to see Even at the party later in the week, so it could work.

 

God and he wants a reason to talk to Even Bech Neaschum, and that’s a _bigger_ problem. Fuck. Fuck and he needs money or Eskild may actually start selling his shit on the internet while he’s away at class to cover his portion of the rent. Fuckity fuck.

 

Oh, fuck it. “Alright, I’ll do it.” He blurts out and Lara gives a relieved smile, bright just like her son.

 

“Thank you Isak,” She says, like he’s doing her a favor.  He manages a nod but not much else.

 

“No problem,” He says. Oh well, in some universe he won’t live to regret it. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it’ll be this one. Probably not.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Bro,” Jonas gives him a fist bump, leaning his skateboard up against the bench.

 

“Sup,” Isak closes his gross anatomy text book and scoots over, looking down the street. It’s Wednesday and students are milling together in the middle of the road, colorful scarves and backpacks and loud noises.

 

“Get into anything this weekend?”

 

“Nah.” he taps his foot against the bench. “Well, I went to see my mom.”

 

He glances over at Jonas but the other boy’s face is as placid as always. He’s watching a business man walk by, then he looks over at Isak. “Yea?” he says quietly. “You ok?”

 

Isak huffs out a breath, “Yea,” he says slowly. “I think I am.”

 

“How’s she doing?”

 

“She’s…she seems good. Happy. She’s growing a lot of plants.”

 

“No shit?’ Jonas is smiling. “think she could hook us up?”

 

“Not that kind of plant,” Isak rolls his eyes.

 

“Yo, your mom would be a kick ass drug lord,”

 

“I don’t even want to think about it.”

 

They both laugh.

 

“I’m glad she’s feeling better,” Jonas says softly.

 

Isak smiles down at his feet. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

**Even BN (10:09):** are you going to the party this Thursday?

 

Idk. You?

 

 **Even BN (13:21):** I was thinking about it. Still got that new bud

 

True. I’ll probably end up going.

 **Even BN (13:27):** chill, see you then

 

 

cool

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “What’s this?” Sana points with her pencil

 

Isak squints, “Ehhh….cribriform plate of the…shit.”

 

“Of the shit?” Sana raises her eyebrows. She’s rocking some heavy winged eyeliner today.

 

“Of the…” Isak scratches the back of his head, readjusts his snapback. “Ethmoid bone?”

 

“Ding ding,” Sana wiggles her pen before tossing to him. “You’re turn,”

 

Isak hums, turning the skull around. “This.” When Sana glares at him he blinks, “what?”

 

“Pick something harder than that.” She intones, turning a few pages in her notebook.

 

Isak rolls his eyes, but looks around before finally pointing to the infratemporal crest. Sana purses her lips and stares at it for a good minute before giving him the correct answer. “Six plus,” they high five each other.

 

“What lab table are you for gross?” He asks as they’re packing up their bags. It’s the end of the day so the hallways of the science building are packed. He nods at a couple of kids from his class and waits for Sana finish shoving her biology tome in her bag.

 

“13,” She says as they push through the crowd. She pushes the front door open and holds it for him to pass through.

 

“Thanks,” Isak huffs out a breath and shivers in cold afternoon air. “That sucks though because I’m in the back. 34 or something.”

 

“We’d just fight over the scalpel anyway,” Sana reasons, and they share a grin.

 

“You going to this party Thursday with Yousef?” He stops to unlock his bike.

 

Sana shrugs, “We were thinking about it. I think a friend of his is hosting it.”

 

“Yea, Magnus really wants to go.” He backs his bike out and straddles it, then readjusts his hat. Sana gives him a look out the side of her eye.  “What?”

 

“Nothing,” She all but hums out, in that knowing tone of hers. Isak loves it when it’s not being aimed toward him. “I guess I’ll see you there Isabelle.”

 

“Sure Sanasol,” he winks before biking off to meet Jonas for lunch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Thursday rolls around, Isak is somehow exhausted and jittery. He’s not sure how this works, just that he’s supposed to email Lara tomorrow and he hasn’t even seen Even. He wants to see Even. His stomach does a not altogether pleasant squiggle. He walks behind the boys and listens to their idle chatter – Magnus hollering loudly about something.

 

The party is raging by the time they roll up. Music audible from the street. Isak wobbles on the sidewalk and blows out a shaky breath before following them into the house. Madhi and Magnus split off almost immediately, heading towards a group of dancing girls. He spots Sana and Yousef in deep conversation on one of the couches and thinks about heading over before he realizes that Sana would probably murder him. Jonas starts leading the way towards the kitchen when Isak looks to the left and sees Even.

 

Something about him is compelling in a way Isak can’t describe, but it makes his chest hurt. He can’t look away. Even makes his way across the room and stops in front of him. His hair is sweaty, curling at his temples and he’s got that bright grin lighting up his face. His eyes are electric as he says, “Isak you came!” Like it’s some sort of revelation. Like there had really been a chance Isak wasn’t going to show.

 

“Hey,” He says, keenly aware of Jonas at his back. Probably giving him a knowing look under thick brows. “Ya, I thought we may as well check it out.”

 

“May as well?” Even’s eyebrows are raised, eyes twinkling.

 

“Yea well,” Isak rolls his eyes, blushing. “You know, since were in the area.”

 

“In the area?” Now Even’s definitely laughing at him but instead of annoyance, Isak feels a bubble of warmth rise inside of him. Endearment. Acid reflux. Something he doesn’t want to think about.

 

“Yea Isak, in the area?” Oh fuck, that’s Jonas looking amused. And there it is, the annoyance finally making its appearance. Isak frowns.

 

“Yes Jonas,” He says, widening his eyes at the other boy as if to say _shut the fuck up now thanks._ “We were.”

 

Jonas shrugs. “Yea we were walking by,” he says loyally. _Yes. Thank you Jonas, you may continue to live._

 

“Well I’m glad you made it a stop on your busy night,” Even grins. His eyes look vibrant in the dim lighting. The music is pulsing so loudly, Isak abruptly realizes their all basically yelling at each other to be heard over the mind piercing bass.

 

He smirks at Even. “What can I say, I’m a charitable person,”

 

“Ouch!” Even tilts his head back, laughing. When Isak chances a glance at Jonas the other boy is speaking a novel’s worth with his eyebrows. _Yea, whatever Jonas, remember when you liked that redhead last year and I wingmanned for you,_ Isak tries to say back with his. It must go through a little bit because Jonas says,

 

“Yea, so I’m gonna go find some beer, where’s the kitchen?”

 

Even points him in the direction and suddenly it’s just the two of them standing alone in a room full of college kids dancing to dub step, smiling at each other.

 

“Do you want a beer?” Even yells and then inexplicably hands Isak his own at his nod. “I didn’t drink any of it,” he says at Isak’s look, like that explains anything. But the beer is cold and Isak needs _something_ to give him courage so he tips it back and pulls a few swallows. It’s not like he hasn’t hung out with Even before, except this time he’s what? Being paid for it? His mind skitters away from that uncomfortable thought.

 

They find an empty couch and sit, and Even immediately launches into the latest short film he’s working on. Isak listens quietly, sips his beer and watches as Even moves his hands to punctuate his story. They spend the whole party like that - people come to say hi and wander off again. Sana stops by and chats with Isak for a little bit about school before wandering off to find Eva. At the end of the night Isak has somehow gotten lucky enough that Even agrees to hang out with him in a couple of days. They agree to meet outside of school and then Jonas is practically dragging him out of the house by the scruff of his neck.

 

“Damn,” he laughs at the curb. “You’re so thirsty.”

 

“Fuck off,” But Isak is grinning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He plucks out an awkward email to Lara. Doesn’t think about it. Hits send. She venmos him 500 kroner.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They meet up outside of school, and decide to walk back to Isak’s place. For having never hung out sober, it’s surprisingly chill.

 

“What’s your favorite class?” Even asks, like he’s actually interested in listening to Isak ramble on about science.

 

“Hmmm,” Isak shrugs, scuffing his feet. “Maybe cell biology?”

 

Even tilts his head, “Cell biology? What do you like about it?”

 

“Well,” Isak squints, thinking of the easiest way to explain. “I like how organized everything is. Like, everything in your body is such a finely tuned machine it’s amazing how everything works together. Like for example, when your cell wants to eat something, there are these specific receptors on the outside of every cell that signal it to be taken in. And cells can send packages between organelles based on protein tags, and...” he trials off, realizing he’s been rambling and Even probably has no idea what he’s talking about. He glances over, expecting to see a glazed look on the other boy’s face but Even’s looking intently at him, eyes focused. It sends a jolt through Isak’s belly. “Anyway, it’s just really interesting to me, that’s all.”

 

“It sounds interesting.” And strangely, Even seems to mean that.

 

“Yea well, what about you? Film making seems like a pretty ambitious choice of careers.” They’re wandering through the palace park now, Isak listening to the trees rustling as the wind picks up. He manages to avoid tripping on the loose brick that gets him three out of five days.

 

“I like capturing people’s stories,” Even shoves his hands in his pockets. The breeze ruffles his hair around his ears. He’s smiling over at Isak. “The way people move, more than words even, to me is the most interesting thing. It says so much. Movement.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean like you, for example,” He pulls his hands out of his pockets and motions them towards Isak. “When you’re excited about something, you go up on your tippy toes.”

 

“What?” Isak scoffs, rolling his eyes.  “I do not.”

 

“You totally do,” Even laughs. “I think it’s great. Or when you think I’m full of shit you roll your eyes.”

 

“Ha,” Isak rolls his eyes and blushes. “I guess that’s true.”

 

“You do this thing with your chin also,” Even tilts his chin in what Isak assumes is an impression of him. “I don’t know that means though.”

 

“Maybe I just like tilting my chin,” Isak suggests, grinning.

 

Even laughs again. “Maybe,” he says and they share a smile between them.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Issy I put your sheets in the dryer for you,” Eskild’s voice comes from the recesses of his room.

 

 _I’m gonna kill you_ , Isak thinks. Aloud he says, “Thanks,” really loudly. Even laughs like he can tell how annoyed Isak is.

 

Isak goes toward their little closet that houses the washer/dryer unit but somebody - re: Eskild - has misplaced the doorknob.

 

“Dammit,” he hisses and turns back toward the kitchen nook, nearly colliding head on with Even.

 

“Hi,” Even says with a smile that scrunches his eyes up. Then he glances over Isak’s shoulder and his brows raise. “What happened to the doorknob?”

 

“You don’t want to know,” Isak grumbles, moving around Even and into the kitchen. He starts pulling open drawers and finds the knob in the third drawer he tries and he holds it up with a victorious “ah ha!” that has Even laughing again.

 

“Something funny?” Isak raises his eyebrows before going to the laundry door and wrestling the knob into place.

 

“Your housemate seems nice,” Even shakes his head.

 

“Eskild is pure evil, don’t be fooled.”

 

“Evil? That’s a little harsh. I prefer the term chaotic neutral myself.”

 

“Jesus!” Eskild’s voice shocks the hell out of him and he almost bangs his head on the door of the dryer. When he emerges, he sees Eskild introducing himself to an amused Even.

 

“So are you guys gonna have a study group?” Eskild pops the ‘p’ in group. He’s doing that rocking back on his heels thing that always spells trouble for Isak.

 

“Ah,” Even’s eyes squint up into endearing half moons, “I think that whatever science stuff Isak is into would be way over my head honestly.”

 

Isak flushes and shifts his shoulders when Eskild gives him this look with pursed lips. And sure enough he says,

 

“Isak is into a lot of stuff that makes no sense. Like skipping out on the rent but somehow still having money for alcohol. Have you found a job yet Isak? You know Oskar has an opening and I-“

 

“Eskild I can get you the money by the end of the week,” Isak is keenly aware of Even’s presence and curious eyes. He scowls at Eskild. “I am not waiting tables at Oskar’s sex club.”

 

“First of all, it’s a gay bar not a _sex club,_ Christ Isak,” Isak rolls his eyes, bunching the sheets up in his arms, “and second of all why not? You’re adorable when you’re not scowling, you’d make a killing there.”

 

“I would not,” He scoffs, flushing and abruptly done with this conversation. “And anyway I don’t have time for a job like that.”

 

“As if you have anything better to do,” but Eskild is smiling fondly.

 

“Bye Eskild,” Isak shuffles towards his door and manages to get a grip on the knob.

 

“Don’t forget you owe me! I saved you from the streets!” Eskild shouts after him before humming his way into the kitchen. Thank. God.

 

“The streets?” Even asks, a hint of laughter in his tone. His brows are wrinkled.

 

“He’s joking,” Mostly. Maybe. Not really. Isak is definitely not opening that can of worms now. 

 

As he pushes open his bedroom door, Isak has a pang of apprehension as Even follows behind him. He’s keenly aware he’s a messy person, and there’s no hiding the pile of dirty laundry in one corner or the sprawl of school notes that have somehow multiplied from this morning and taken over half of Isak’s floor. There’s an array of half empty cups on his nightstand that look like some sort of science experiment. Christ, he is a slob. He dumps the sheets on the bed and watches Even look around with apprehension sitting heavily in his gut.

 

His walls are covered in an assortment of papers: pictures of planets, science articles, memes, stupid things Isak has written over the years. The periodic table is thumb tacked to the back of his door and a big poster of the Andromeda galaxy is taped to his ceiling along with some glow stars. Even doesn’t comment on anything, just gives Isak a half smile before wandering over to read some stuff taped to his wall. _Oh fuck me,_ Isak thinks biting down hard on his lower lip and turns to busy himself with making the bed.

 

“Did you write these?” Even asks, pressing a long finger gently against a piece of paper.

 

“Uh, yea…” Isak focuses on untangling the dryer warm sheets, aware that his face is flushing, neck getting itchy with his blush. “It’s just…something I do sometimes when I can’t sleep.” Something the grief counselor had suggested to him. A habit he hasn’t been able to shake.

 

“These are really good,” Even’s voice is quiet, almost as if he’s speaking to himself.

 

Isak feels like he must be the color of his snapback. He coughs out a ‘thanks?’ while putting the fitted sheet on his bed. Even comes over eventually to help him. And it’s nice, the two of them here in Isak’s room joking about laundry duty. He catches Even glancing over at his walls a few times, but the other boy doesn’t comment any more on Isak’s stupid poetry – thank god.

 

“So, have you known Eskild long?” Even asks halfway through their second game of FIFA. Even had lost their first game and had demanded an instant rematch. Isak hates to admit it but he’s struggling to stay ahead.

 

“Ah, yea….” He sticks his tongue out in concentration as his player chases Even’s. “I moved here when I was 15 so it’s been…eh 5 years I guess? Ah fuck!” He shoots Even a dirty look. “Are you trying to distract me?”

 

“Who me?” Even asks, with wide eyes before he grins, “I don’t need to distract you to win Isak.”

 

Isak rolls his eyes, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed. “We’ll see about that.” And they get lost in an epic FIFA competition that ends with Even crowing in victory and stealing Isak’s snapback to wear. He looks good with it on and it makes something warm in Isak’s belly.

 

Later, they wander into the kitchen to scavenge for food, giggling about nothing in particular. Eskild is at his evening shift so the apartment is silent except for them. Isak pulls out a bag of bread from the cupboard and some cheese he finds tucked away in the fridge and together they concoct a truly horrible cheesy toastie that they dare each other to eat.

 

Then they shuffle back to Isak’s room with some beers and Even convinces Isak that watching Romeo + Juliet is a good way of spending his Friday night.

 

“This is the most depressing shit I have ever seen,” Isak complains as he watches Leonardo die. “I can’t believe I just watched this.” He refuses to acknowledge the heavy weight in his heart or the fact that he definitely had to wipe his eyes a few times during the duration of the film. He glances over and meets Even’s amused gaze.

 

“Sad endings are the best kind of endings,” Even says with the air of a someone who’s said it a million times before. “Because they make you feel.” Isak isn’t sure he agrees with him, but he’s not in the mood to argue it.

 

Even pulls out a joint half way through the next movie and Isak squawks in indignation.

 

“I can’t believe it took you so long to break that out,” He grumps, blowing smoke out into his room. He’d shuffled over to open a window – in the hopes of avoiding a verbal scolding from Eskild for ‘always making their apartment smell like weed, Isak I have told you so many times’ – and the two of them have pulled Isak’s duvet over their legs to stave off the cold air.

 

“I couldn’t have your brain foggy for Baz,” Even defends, taking the blunt back with warm fingers. _Boom_ , Isak thinks inanely.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s a thing after that, them getting together and shooting the shit over movies. Jonas makes fun of Isak terribly but he doesn’t give a fuck. It’s too weird to make a move on Even when it’s his _job_ to hang out with the guy. But damn does he want to lean over and touch his hair, kiss his mouth. It’s horrible. Not that Even likes him like that. Still. Ugh. It’s a shit situation, and as the weeks pass and he tip taps his weekly emails to Lara he starts to feel worse and worse about it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You wrote this?” Even asks, just like every time. Like this time the answer would be something different.

 

“Yea,” Isak can’t open his eyes. He feels like Even can see inside him, read his guts the way seers spread bones out across the floor and told the future. _What do mine say?_ He wants to ask. _What do you see, Even?_ It’s Wednesday night and everyone else is at the movies. The two of them have opted to stay in and play FIFA, which led to smoking, which lead to sprawling out on Isak’s bed and postulating about the universe. Isak tells himself he’s going to pull out his anatomy book and start studying any minute now, but it’s just not happening.

 

“I think you have a gift,” Even shifts around on the bed. “I…I’d love to make a movie about something you’ve written.”

 

“What?” Isak scoffs but when he looks over Even’s eyes are strangely intent. His soft mouth serious. Isak’s heart stutters. “You swear?”

 

“I swear,” Even says, like it’s easy. They’re quiet for a moment, watching each other before Even quirks a smile. “Don’t you want to know what I’d call it?”

 

Heart in his throat, Isak says, “Yes.”

 

Even hums like he’s pondering to himself, but Isak can tell by the gleam of amusement in his eyes that he already knows what he’s going to say when he finally opens his mouth and murmurs, “The boy who talks to trees,” with a smile.

 

Isak huffs out a surprised laugh. “That makes no sense. Nothing I’ve written is about trees,” he says, just to be argumentative.

 

“I know,” Even raises his eyebrows, still smiling. “but that’s the point. People will watch it and wonder at the end, ‘why the hell is the movie called that?’ There’ll be long forum debates about it…people will dissect every scene. The movie will have a 99% on rotten tomatoes for its insightfulness into the human psyche but no one will really know what it’s about.”

 

“Sounds like hipster bullshit to me,” Isak rolls his eyes, ridiculously charmed by this boy. “I bet it’s a tragedy both plot wise and in the box office.”

 

Even laughs like Isak’s said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Isak sits up and leans over the bed, rooting around his clothes on the floor until he finds his text book.

 

“You’re studying _now_?” Even asks, laughter in his voice.

 

“I have a giant exam Monday and a practical the next day. I’m already fucked but I’d like to limit the level of shit that’s gonna rain down on me,” Isak flips through the book and listens to Even laugh again, feels him get up from the bed and wander over to the wall. He’s silent long enough that Isak gets into the chapter, and then his soft voice brings him back again.

 

“This one is my favorite I think,”

 

Isak rubs his hand over his face, glances up with squinty eyes. “Oh?” he asks, something squiggly in his stomach when he sees Even nodding towards that same poem he’d been standing in front of all those weeks ago. In the soft yellow light of Isak’s bedroom his mouth looks particularly lush, eyes warm. 

 

“You can have it if you want.” The offer leaves his mouth before he’s aware of what he’s saying.

 

“Really?” Even’s eyes go wide and a smile lights up his face. Jeez, you’d think he’d just offered him a da vinci or some shit.

 

He forces himself to be casual when he shrugs, “Sure, what do I care?” and bites his lip blushing and peaking through his lashes as Even carefully untapes the poem from his wall. He reads the same stupid paragraph about the brachial plexus and its different cords until he thinks it’s safe to look up. Even’s texting someone on his phone, his bag open by his feet but he glances up and catches Isak’s eye and does his stupid winking thing that somehow makes a spark of arousal ignite in Isak’s stomach.

 

“Now I can say I have an original Valtersen, so that when you become a famous writer I can sell it for big bucks.”

 

Isak rolls his eyes, “Oh please, you’re gonna be the famous one. Probably gonna direct that artsy movie and shoot to stardom.”

 

Even laughs, puts his phone away and moseys back over towards the bed. “You think?”

 

“You’re pretentious enough to make it,” Isak allows, stifling a smile as Even guffaws.

 

“Ouch,” He puts a hand to his chest, laughing. His smile is so bright Isak’s toes curl in his socks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He wakes up sometime in the early hours of the next day and rolls over in his bed. The other side is empty but he can see Even standing across the room, facing the wall of poems taped up in a smorgasbord of different sized paper.

 

“What time is it?” Isak croaks. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep. The world looks like something painted in grisaille. He lifts his heavy head up from his pillow and yawns.

 

Even glances back at him in surprise, like he’s forgotten Isak was there. “Early,” he says after a moment, voice soft and deep. There’s a moment of silence where Even just looks at him. In this light, he seems somehow both too close and very far away. Hair and eyes darker than usual.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“S’okay,” Isak mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

 

“I have work at eight so I have to roll out,” Even murmurs as Isak blinks slowly at him, barely coherent. “Go back to sleep, Isak.”

 

“Mmm…okay,” Isak hums, letting his head fall back to the pillow. His brain feels foggy and warm, like it’s stuffed full of cotton. Too much weed the night before and too little sleep. He half listens to Even shuffle around the room, half lucid dreams he’s walking down a pebbled beach holding a bird in his hand. Let it go, the trees whisper to him with the wind. The bird’s feathers are very blue. Isak holds it up towards the sun and sighs when someone runs their fingers through his hair. He opens his hand and the bird flies away.

 

He wakes up later and squints at his phone, nearly crying when he sees it’s just past 08:00. He’s got a text from Even sent a couple of minutes before. It was probably the chirp of his phone that woke him up in the first place, but Isak can’t find it in himself to be mad.

 

 

 **Even (07:56):** made it to work with four minutes to spare! thanks for the horrible cheese sandwiches and the beer :) I hope this doesn’t wake you.

           

                                                                            thanks for the subpar movie taste

 

 **Even (07:56):** Ouch! Who ended the night with Michael Bay?

                                                                       

                                                                       the first Transformers is a classic

 

 **Even (07:58):** HAHA, isak who knew you were so funny

 

                                                                                               

                                       :P

 

 **Even (07:58):** Pure gold. Boss giving me the stink eye now so I’ll text later  :D

                                   

 

                                                                        Have fun serving coffee to hipsters

 

 **Even (07:59):** It’s a thankless job, but someone has to do it ;)

 

 

Isak’s smiling as he clicks his phone screen off and sprawls out on his back, breathing deep. He imagines he can still smell Even’s shampoo on his pillowcase.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lara

 

Even is good. We hung out a lot this past week, playing FIFA and studying. He seemed happy and is enjoying his film project. - Isak

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even eats with him most days at lunch. Isak doesn’t really know his schedule but according to Even ‘film students have a lot of free time’ so lucky him. Isak is usually shoving food into his mouth in the scant hour between chem and gross anatomy; forcing himself to go through the dissection outlines while he gulps down turkey, or tuna, or cheese sandwiches.

 

“Jesus,” Even’s flipping through the printed PDF and glancing up at him. “I don’t know how you can eat and look at this.”

 

“I have lab until 16:50 so if I wanna eat I gotta do it now,” he says through a mouthful of food. He can’t tell if Even looks horrified or impressed; it’s probably a bit of both.

 

“Are you really gonna cut out someone’s lungs today?” He asks, gazing down at the directions.

 

“Looks like,” Isak takes a big bite out of his turkey sandwich.

 

“What the fuck?” Mahdi slumps in the seat next to them, takes one look at the PDF before taking the packet and flipping it over. “No way dude, I can’t handle that with my lunch.”

 

“Fine, fine I never know what’s going on in that lab anyway,” Isak waves his hand. Even leans over the table and starts talking to Mahdi about some new video game coming out; Isak doesn’t really listen, just watches Even’s hands before swallowing and looking down at his lunch. Eva joins them a few minutes later and the two of them hit it off like they’re old friends. It’s amazing to watch Even talk to people because he does it so naturally and _everyone_ seems to like him. Isak would be jealous if he didn’t find him so endearing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A couple weeks later and they’re romping around Oslo at night, looking for a party. Isak is running on fumes but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give himself a night off. He’s been irritated lately and he doesn’t really know why. Prickly like he’s waiting for something; he’s been short with the boys and even found himself snapping at Even occasionally.

 

“If we had a car we wouldn’t have to wander around like dumbasses all night looking for a party,” Mahdi is complaining, as they turn another street.

 

“I can call my friend and see if something is going on,” Even offers from next to Isak. The two of them are sort of lagging behind.

 

“Yes, my man Even!” Magnus shouts, putting his hands up in the air. Even laughs and steps away with his phone. They’re quiet for a few minutes before Magnus says, “Now we just need a sucker to drive us. Isak?”

 

“Nah man, I don’t drive,” Isak shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets.

 

“We don’t even have a car bro,” Jonas adds.

 

“My mom has a car we could borrow,” Magnus shrugs. “As long as we don’t crash it, she won’t care.” He mimics holding a steering wheel and swerving it out of control, complete with screeching noises and explosions that has Mahdi cracking up.

 

Jonas face clouds over and Isak looks away, down the street. He listens to what sounds like a fist hitting a shoulder – hard – and tries not to think about anything in particular.

 

“Don’t joke about that,” Jonas hisses.

 

“What?” Magnus’ voice is baffled. “I didn’t-“

 

“It’s fine,” Isak blurts out, sharply aware of Even staring at him, phone in his hand. “Jonas, come on.”

 

“Isak,” Even says, quietly. Isak can feel his hand ghosting over his shoulder like a hot iron. He holds his breath, but Even blessedly doesn’t say anything else just stands like a beacon of warmth at his back.

 

“It’s fine,” He says again, inanely, pulling away and turning. He’s walking before he realizes it, slow, somnabulatory steps. He stops beside a bench, sits and closes his eyes against the glow of the streetlights.

 

There’s a crunch of footsteps on gravel, the infinitesimal movement of the bench as someone sits down with a sigh.

 

“The boys went ahead,” Even says quietly, after a moment.

 

“Mmm,” Isak keeps his eyes closed. He feels like he’s holding his breath, the inevitable sitting like a stone pit in his stomach.

 

“Did I ever tell you why I started university late?” Even asks, inexplicably. When Isak meets his eyes in surprise, Even casts him a smile. “No, I know I didn’t. I…I had a sort of mental breakdown.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, but Isak sees him swallow sharply, thread his hands together tightly between his splayed legs.

 

After a moment, Isak dares to inch his leg closer until their knees are just barely touching. They sit like that for a moment, just breathing together. Then Isak says, “Do you feel okay now?”

 

“Now?” Even casts him a look from under his eyelashes. It’s strangely soft; unreadable like a lot of things about Even. “I feel alright most days, because I take my meds. I’m still bipolar though, it’s not like that’ll ever go away.” He bites his lips, jiggles his leg against Isak’s. Then abruptly he turns on the bench to face Isak and gives him that intent _look_ that makes Isak’s toes curl in his shoes.

 

“The point I’m trying to make, really ineptly,” Even says, hoarsely, “Is that we’re all going through something. I’ve mostly come to grips accepting myself, but there are still days when I can’t get out of bed. And that’s okay. You don’t have to apologize or explain yourself to anyone.”

 

They sit for a moment on the bench, breathing between them.

 

“I started writing as a form of therapy,” He says eventually, his voice so low he can barely hear himself above the rush of blood to his head. “In high school after…everything…” His voice wobbles and fades out.

 

“It’s okay,” Even’s arm comes to settle around his shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me Isak. I didn’t tell you so you would tell me.”

 

“I know,” Isak whispers. Abruptly it’s just too much. He folds in on himself like a bird, presses his face against Even’s coat. It tastes like winter and nylon when he opens his mouth. And then his mind just fades blessedly away.

 

He’s slow to come back to himself and when he does it’s with great gulping breaths. Even is rubbing his back and humming something to him.

 

“God,” Isak mumbles. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He jerks back and wipes at his face, realizing with absolute mortification that his cheeks are wet.

 

“Please don’t apologize,” Even says softly. “It’s alright.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lara

Even is good. Seems happy. We went to a party last week and it was fun. He is a good friend. – Isak

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So,” Eskild is pursing his lips in that way that has Isak immediately on alert. “You and Even?”

 

Isak waits but that seems to be all Eskild is offering. He glances up from his game and then scoffs, pausing it. “Yes?” He drops the game controller with as much attitude as he can muster up.

 

“Nothing,” Eskild side eyes him. “So…are you two like a thing now?”

Isak feels his face flame, “No!” He sputter out. Then, somewhat calmer, “No, no we’re friends.”

 

“I have a lot of friends and I don’t fall asleep on them,” Eskild purses his lips. He’s talking about the other night when he’d walked into the living room and found Isak and Even napping. He hadn’t mentioned it so Isak had hoped he’d been left off the hook – obviously not.

 

“Uh, you fall asleep on me all the time,” Isak points out and rolls his eyes when Eskild holds up a hand.

 

“Lies!” He exclaims, “YOU fall asleep on me,”

 

“AND we’re friends,” Isak shouts triumphantly.

 

“Aw, you just admitted we’re friends,” Eskild sniffs, and pretends to wipe his eyes. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“Oh please-“

 

“After 84 years,”

 

“I’m leaving,”

 

“I know there’s something going on!” Eskild yells at his back, following him down the hallway, into the kitchen and back out again

 

“You’re insane!” Isak shouts back, before running into his room and slamming the door.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Isak takes to studying in the coffee shop after school. He puts in his earplugs and cranks through paper after paper, writing outlines, finishing lab reports, angsting over his cadaver situation. Even sometimes brings him muffins on his break, or little cups of different flavored coffee for him to try (he hates peppermint in coffee, go figure). They walk to the tram after Even’s shift ends on the days he works and sometimes they go to Isak’s to play FIFA, sometimes they go to Even’s apartment to watch movies (Elias, Even’s roommate is intimidating as hell and Isak is somehow unsurprised when he finds out he’s Sana’s brother), sometimes they part ways on the tram with a jaunty salute.

 

One weekend Even drags him to Hovedøya and Isak bitches his way through the old monastery ruins, listening to Even go on about history and how the island is a perfect filming location. Even puts a dandelion behind his ear and refuses to tell Isak where he got it from. They wander out onto the deserted beach, pebbles crunching under their shoes and watch the sun begin to set. When Isak glances towards Even, he finds the boy already looking at him.

 

“Wanna borrow that boat?” Even points out to a dodgy looking red rowboat that Isak hadn’t noticed. Isak laughs – ah, what the hell. They take it out on the water and nearly flip over several times. Isak has never felt more alive than when he’s yelling at Even to “sit the hell down before we fall in!”

 

Even when they’re just lounging around in bed, watching Netflix - somehow it’s everything as long as it’s with _Even._

 

It’s an innocuous Tuesday when it happens. Wet and cold.

 

They’re standing under the old wooden awning, waiting for the tram to come, drenched in rain. Isak’s shivering but trying to hide it, folding his arms in tight. Even shakes his head like a dog and Isak laughs as the cold rain stings his face. They’re both grinning at each other and in the haze of the streetlights Isak feels like he’s dreaming.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Even’s voice comes to him slowly, soft as it is.

 

“Hm,” he says, breathing in the deep air.  Around them the rain falls thick like a shroud.

 

Even moves closer, “You can tell me,” he says and Isak turns to look up at him, oh. There’s a rush of warmth deep in his belly when he sees how dark Even’s eyes are. It could be the light, it could be -

 

“Your eyes,” Even says nonsensically, like somehow he knew Isak had been thinking about _eyes._ How? His mind short circuits when Even’s fingers brush gently against his face and they’re standing so close now, Isak can see the wet fan of Even’s eyelashes, can almost feel them against his face. _He’s going to kiss me_ , he knows with a sudden certainty. _Oh god-_

 

He’s a breath away when Isak jerks his chin down and gulps in air. When he looks back, Even is still standing there with his hand up.

 

“I-“ Isak starts,

 

“No,” Even’s hand drops, then he shoves both of them into his pockets. Even shakes his head and oddly enough he’s smiling. “It’s alright, I get it.”

 

Isak doubts that very much, “Even-“

 

“It’s okay Isak,” He’s turned away now, looking out at the rain. The cut of his jaw lovely, the curve of his mouth a stranger. “Actually, I think that’s our tram.” And with that he steps out and is swallowed by the rain.

 

Isak stands there like an asshole, as the tram pulls up and the doors open in a flood of light.

 

“Isak,” Even waves at him from the doorway. Isak inhales a shaky breath, bites his mouth, and hunches his shoulders before schlepping his way out into the cold.

 

Even’s oddly loquacious on the tram ride, as if he’s afraid to let any sort of silence settle between them. It makes Isak ache with a strange sadness. He wants to explain, the words are crawling up the inside of his throat, but Even had said don’t and the look in his eyes had been wild. _Alright_ Isak, he thinks _, it’s alright. I can do this for him. I can let this go._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The leaves of the trees rustle in the wind, murmuring -

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Time passes as time is wont to do, and winter makes itself known with a bitter wind. The days get short and dark, and Isak spends most of his time under a mountain of school work. Even comes to drag him out of his room and they take walks through the palace park, down to the water front area. For the first few days after The Incident, as Isak has taken to calling it in his mind, it’s strange between them. Even talks a lot more about nothing, Isak a lot less. He wonders for the first week if he should say something, but he never does.

 

Eventually time smooths things out and Even is the same as ever, dragging him up the ramped roof of the opera house to look out over the harbor at something or another, or kicking his ass at FIFA. After a while the sleepovers start again and it’s almost like before. Even and him talking in the dark about nothing and everything. The poems on Isak’s walls bearing his insides for the world to see. _I can be brave here,_ he thinks. Maybe. Someday.

 

In December he tells Even about his mother.

 

“My Mama is…she’s not well,” He makes a gesture at his head, “Mentally.”

 

“How so?” Even’s eyes are soft, his hand a calming presence at Isak’s back.

 

Isak clears his throat. It’s not as hard to talk about it as it was when he was seventeen, but he still has to parse through his thoughts slowly.

 

“She has schizophrenia,” he says finally. “Back when I was in high school, she was undiagnosed so it was…hard. A lot of the time she didn’t know who I was, or like…she was convinced we were being spied on... She used to break the television, thinking she’d find things inside of it. She’d forget she knew me. Things like that.” Isak stares up at his ceiling, at the glow stars. “After my dad left, I tried but I just…I couldn’t help her and she was scared of me sometimes. Refused to leave her room when I was home. So I just…I couldn’t be there anymore. Eskild found me wandering around and here I am.” He raises his hand and waves. “But she’s much better now. I actually went to see her not long ago.” He cuts himself off.

 

“You saw her?” Even prompts quietly.

 

“It was nice,” Isak closes his eyes. “I missed her.”

 

“I’m sure she was glad to see you.” 

 

“I think she was.” He whispers.

 

“I would be, if I was her.” Even’s silent for a moment and then he asks, “Are you going to see her for Christmas do you think?” Even’s voice isn’t pushy, just questioning. His hand still moves against Isak’s back.

 

“I don’t know,” he swallows. He hadn’t thought about it yet. “I hope so.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He does.

 

Marianne has a little fir tree she’d potted and stuck by the fire place.

 

 “I didn’t want to kill something and set it up,” She says, voice shaky like she has to explain herself, like she’s doing something wrong.

 

“I love it, Mama.” Isak says, and he does. It’s an odd thing, wrapped in soft ribbon and no lights, but it clearly means a lot to his mom and so he does love it. They spend the weekend making under cooked cookies and watching black and white movies. If Isak lets himself pretend, he could almost be eleven or twelve - it could almost be before.

 

On his way back from the bathroom he detours and stops by Lea’s old room. He traces the faint outline of her name on the door: L E A. Time has almost worn it away. _Merry Christmas Lea,_ he thinks.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lara

Even is good. He seems happy. We eat lunch together most days. I’m not sure what else to say, sorry. I feel weird about taking money for something so little. - Isak

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They’re in the middle of a football tournament when they realize they’re going to be late for Mahdi’s New Year’s party. Even loans him a jacket and they roll out of the tiny apartment onto the street. There’s fireworks already going off into the distance and they laugh and stumble their way to the flat. At midnight Even makes an exaggerated kissy face at him from across the room. Isak swallows and looks away, laughing. _2018_ , he thinks to himself. What a crazy world.

 

Even insists on walking him home so he can ‘get his coat back before it disappears into the black hole of your room’ – his words. Isak rolls his eyes but agrees, high on the cold air and the beautiful boy beside him.

 

As he sticks his hands in the pockets of Even’s coat and hunches his shoulders to keep warm, his fingers brush against something and he wrinkles his brow and pulls out a piece of paper. It’s neatly folded, whatever it is, and Isak spends a few agonizing minutes debating with himself on the morality of opening it but in the end curiosity wins out and he quickly opens it only to have his breath catch in his throat when he realizes it’s the poem he’d let Even take.

 

It’s been folded open and closed so many times that the paper has gone soft. Isak’s handwriting faded in some places more than others. He reads through it, trying to see what has Even so captivated that he feels the need to carry this around in his coat pocket but it just feels like the same scientific dribble it’s always felt like, fueled on by insomnia and a strange yearning he’s never been able to put a name to. The questioning, and the wishing to understand without ever being able to get it all out on paper:

 

what are we but sacks of meat,

calcium, magnesium, carbon, the rock beneath our feet.

billions of neurons spread out like a net,

skeletons walking, the taste of regret - -

in four thousand years, who digs us up?

holds out our bones, says i wonder what

this was?

or: in an ode to histology exclaims,

this was homosapien because they gave each other names.

we are a love song in cranium morphology,

in the girdles of our hips, long after you and i die.

it’s sweet i find, that despite it all

our haversian canals can never lie.

 

 

“Ah,” Even says and Isak jerks his head up, caught in the action of snooping. Except is it really snooping if it’s his own poem?

 

Even’s looking at him like it is. He’s biting his lower lip and his brow is furrowed. He’s got that look in his eye.

 

“Sorry,” Isak blurts out, mortified at himself. He fumbles to refold the note and shoves it back in the coat pocket like that can somehow erase what he did. It’s strange reading his writing when it belongs to someone else.

 

Even tilts his head and huffs a strange laugh, “Ah…why are you apologizing?”

 

“For going through your shit?” Isak offers, and it does its job in breaking the awkwardness between them. Even walks past him and Isak holds his breath as he comes close.

“Don’t worry about it,” Even shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”  They’re almost to Isak’s apartment but Isak doesn’t want to leave it awkward between them.

 

“It’s not,” he shrugs. “People carry famous poems in their pockets all the time.”

 

“Famous?” Even busts out laughing. “Oh, you think so highly of yourself.”

 

“Hey, you gotta aim high,” Isak argues. “Besides, my work has been displayed publicly before-“

 

“On bathroom walls,” They both say at the same time, cracking up.

 

“Happy New Year, Isak.”  Even says, grinning. Isak shuffles out of his jacket and hands it over. When they’re hands brush he holds his breath. He’s so thankful, so thankful.

 

“Happy New Year Even,” He smiles, before stepping inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“My sister died in a car accident,”

 

They’re lying together in the dark when the words come out of him, hesitant and slow like the creeping dawn. Unsure if Even’s awake, he stops and blinks into the gray night. Then he feels the bed move and hears Even shuffle over. Knows he isn’t asleep. He listens to the sound of Even’s breathing and thinks, _I can do this._ He’s never said it out loud.

 

“Is that why you’re afraid to drive?” Even finally whispers.

 

“Sort of? I guess.” Isak’s throat clicks when he swallows and he listens to Even breath a few more times, tries to breath with him.

 

“They told me later she died instantly,” he manages to whisper, hands carefully threaded across his stomach, “but she didn’t.”

 

He hears the stuttering of Even’s breath but he’s started now and the words flood out of him like a deluge. Some cathartic release that’s built up for years and years inside.

 

“I tried to reach her but I…” his voice comes to him from far away. “We were hanging over the guardrail for...too long. My leg was pinned and I…I just couldn’t...couldn’t reach her. And the water would have…” He trails off with that, and his heart is racing, hands clammy but his eyes are bone dry. _Lea,_ he thinks about seeing her in the car, wide dark eyes looking at him. Her mouth shaping his name. _Lea my god, I tried._ And how they’d been fighting over sharing the back seat five minutes before and Isak falling asleep against the cold glass of the window five minutes before that. Their little matchbox car passing over the bridge like a bird flying through a thunderhead.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Even’s voice is low, his hand on Isak’s back warm. “Isak.”

 

“I know,” Isak says eventually. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

 

“I know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry,” he says on the phone to her. “I just can’t do it anymore. It doesn’t seem right.”

 

“I understand,” Even’s mother says in return. Strangely, she doesn’t seem put out.  “He talks about you too you know,” she says as they’re hanging up.

 

“Oh.” Isak doesn’t know what to say about that. “Alright then.” He hangs up and sits on the side of his bed until his phone screen goes dark and he can’t see anything. He sits there and tries not to think. There’s a roll of bills under his bed he doesn’t know what to do with. And he’s still got to find a way to pay rent.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Even says he wants to go to Trondheim for his birthday.

 

“You do realize it’s like an 8 hour trainride from Trondheim to Oslo.”

 

“Where’s your sense of adventure Isak?” Even grins, and Isak rolls his eyes.

 

“Okay, okay I’m down!” He laughs.

 

They leave early in the morning on the 10th and the ride isn’t terrible. Isak let’s Even take the window seat and watches him look out the window and take pictures of the lakes they zip past. They see a moose for about 2 seconds, and that’s way more exciting in the moment than Isak thinks it probably should be. That’s the way with Even though he’s come to find.

 

They Airbnb in Trondheim at a guy named Martin’s place. It’s at the top of the narrowest set of winding stair Isak has ever seen. It’s pretty awesome though, with a wet bathroom so small he can barely turn around in it.  Even jokes that he could take a shower sitting on the toilet. They wander down to the old town bridge and Even takes way too many pictures. Isak makes him pose with an American tourist and hold up a peace sign. He also buys Even the biggest latte he’s ever seen ‘for his birthday’.

 

That afternoon, Isak stumbles upon a Pilegrimsleden sign and geeks out. Together they tromp to Nidaros and sneak in, pretending they’re going to attend a service. In the catacombs under the cathedral Isak takes a moment to read a piece of a tomb from over a thousand years ago.

 

“Time is such a strange thing,” He whispers to Even when the other boy wanders over to read over his shoulder. “That these people were here…” He doesn’t know how to put it into words, but he knows Even understands.

 

“We’re small,” Even looks over at him, eyes soft. “And all we have is now.”

 

They take their time, reading through every inscription. Walking up the steps, Isak laughs when he sees the all-seeing eye and poses in front of it for Even.

 

“Illumanati,” They both laugh and then give each other wide eyed looks when an old female tourist shushes them.

 

Eventually they wander back towards their apartment, stopping at a REMA to grab some food. Isak promises to cook Even a birthday dinner but that gets derailed when he realizes a huge hornet is flying around the kitchen.

 

“Holy fuck!” He yells and scrambles for the bathroom. Even, who’d been trying to figure out how to work their television, shouts after him.

 

“What?! What?!”

 

“There’s a fucking huge hornet in there!” Isak yells, through the crack in the bathroom door. There’s silence and then Even starts laughing.

 

“I can’t believe you left me out here to die!” He shouts from the kitchen, still laughing. Isak hears the clanging of some dishware and a few curses.

 

“I didn’t!” Isak exclaims from the safety of the bathroom, and Even laughs again. “Is it dead?” He asks, after a minute.

 

“It’s out the window,” Even replies, knocking on the bathroom door. “You can stop hiding.”

 

“I’m not hiding,” Isak lies, face red as he inches the door open. Even is grinning down at him. “I don’t like hornets.”

 

“Clearly,” Even leans against the doorway, he’s still grinning. Isak can’t help but smile back. They stand there for a minute smiling inanely at each other before Isak coughs and looks away.

 

“So, I’ll get back to it,” he inches out past Even, and tentatively pokes his head into the kitchen which sets Even off laughing again.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“When I was younger I had this imaginary friend who I used to pretend was my filming assistant. It would drive my mom crazy because I would use her as an excuse for why I didn’t have real friends.”  It’s much later and they’re sprawled out next to each other on Martin’s big bed. They’re both a little drunk from the beer earlier, and Isak is so full he can barely move.

 

“What was her name?” Isak asks, closing his eyes against his pillow.

 

“Sonja,” Even says after a minute. “You don’t think that’s weird?”

“No,” Isak whispers, turning to gaze out the dark window. “I think you were just lonely. There’s nothing weird about that.”

 

Even’s quiet before asking, “Did you ever do something like that?” his voice is muffled against the hood of Isak’s sweatshirt that he’d borrowed.

 

Isak listens to Even’s breathing, relishing the warmth of him close. The calm rising and falling of his chest is like an ebbing tide. Outside he can see a few stars blinking.

 

“I used to imagine things talked to me,” His voice comes quiet in the dark, “when I was a kid. It just…I don’t know why I did it. Cars sometimes. Cats, dogs. Trees.”

 

“Trees, I knew it!” Even cheers before his voice goes soft and he asks, “What did they say?”

 

“Oh anything,” Isak laughs nervously, reaching to twist the sheet between his fingers.  “usually stuff about like science or I don’t know…I’m really into space...”

 

“I know,” Even says warmly. “Parallel universes.”

 

“Yea the infinity... Like how any possibility that could be, somewhere else is. That every choice you make, somewhere else another you makes a different one. Or well, something like that.” Isak bites his lip to stop himself, embarrassed. They’ve talked about it before but only through a cloud of marijuana.

 

Even’s silent for an agonizing moment before he says, “Like here you have yellow curtains, but somewhere else you’d have blue?” His hand is running slow, slow over Isak’s back and Isak feels like he’s melting away. It’s one of his favorite things, when Even rubs his back.

 

“Yea,” He whispers. “Exactly like that.”

 

“Don’t you think that’s kind of sad?” Even muses, after some long minutes.

 

Isak’s mind had been blessedly drifting so it takes him a moment to bring himself back. “Hmm?” He mumbles, pulling himself away from his pillow so he can look up at Even’s face. “How so?”

 

Even’s mouth purses before he shifts his gaze to Isak and then away again, like he’s nervous. “I don’t know,” He says slowly and then frowns. “I guess…because…well…your choices aren’t really choices then. If every choice ends up happening, it’s like your choice doesn’t matter.”

 

Isak stares at him, “But that’s the point isn’t it? That if you make a mistake, it’s okay because somewhere else you get it right. It’s comforting.”

 

“But sometimes mistakes can be good things,” Even’s voice is soft, like his slow-moving hand. “Like getting on a later tram because you slept in. Or talking to a stranger because you’ve lost your keys.”

 

Oh. Isak’s toes curl. “That’s true,” he allows. Even finally looks down at him.

 

“I want to be the director of my own life,” he says, moving to brush some of Isak’s hair away from his eyes.

 

“Okay,” Isak breathes out shakily, as Even shifts closer. His eyes are so blue Isak feels like he could fall into them.

 

“I want my choices to matter,” Even whispers as their noses brush against each other. He’s a breath away now and Isak can breathe in his warm exhales.

 

“They do,” Isak promises, fingers clenched tightly in Even’s hoodie. _Please,_ he thinks. _Please, please._ Warmth pools in the pit of his belly. Oh god, is this really happening?

 

There’s a moment where they lie there breathing unsteadily into each other’s open mouths, their noses pressed together, their eye lashes nearly touching, Even’s fingers curled into Isak’s hair, Isak’s hands against Even’s rabbit fast heart, a moment where Even breathes out a shaky, “Isak?” a moment where Isak breathes back, “yes, yes,” and then Even’s mouth, God the mouth Isak’s been dreaming about for months, is pressing against his own finally _finally_. Isak opens his mouth with a moan and Even is sucking on his tongue, pressing him back against the bed and moving his hands to cup his face.

 

They kiss for a long time, until Isak’s mouth is buzzing and his whole body feels like a live wire. Even presses his lips along his cheek, down his jaw to the hollow of his throat and Isak feels lit up on the inside as he clenches his teeth together to bite back a moan.

 

“Isak,” Even kisses him again, moans into his mouth. Isak’s legs fall open to curl around his waist without any conscious decision. He just _wants_. Wants to be closer to Even, wants anything Even is willing to give him.

 

When Even pulls back he nearly cries.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Even asks, and his eyes are very wide. _Scared_ , Isak thinks.

 

“I’m sure,” He can’t say the words outloud, but he thinks as hard as he can _I love you_ and hopes Even can hear it. Even stares at him for a long moment and then blows out a sigh.

 

“Hey,” Isak says softly. “I like you.” He says it again, and again, until Even is smiling.

 

“Oh,” he says shakily. “I thought maybe you didn’t because of,” he motions to his head and makes a face.

 

“Even no,” Isak takes his face in his hands. His heart is aching with the thought that Even could have believed that for months. Was living with that doubt, even now.  “That has never, _never_ bothered me. I like you because you make me laugh, you listen to me when I talk about stupid shit like parallel universes and gross anatomy, you’re just…you’re you. I like you.” Jeez, he’s horrible at this.

 

Even looks at him with big dark eyes. “I like you too,” he whispers back and Isak has to kiss him or he’ll die.

 

When they’re naked and pressed together Even whispers into his mouth, “I really want to fuck you, can I? please?”

 

Isak’s spine feels like liquid and his mouth is saying _yes yes yes_. He’s gripping onto Even’s shoulders and spreading his legs and if he was a little more with it he would feel embarrassed but everything is so fucking good that all he can do is moan.

 

Even falls asleep after and Isak spends a long time just watching the other boy sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“What are you doing?” Even’s sleep soft voice pulls Isak’s eyes away from his phone.

 

“Oh, just uh,” he bites his lip. “I was just writing. Sorry if I woke you up.”

 

“You didn’t.” Even’s lips quirk and he tilts his head. “Writing?” He looks like a painting, Isak can’t help but think. Like some soft brush has lovingly, painstakingly, brought him into being.

 

“Yea,” He says when he realizes he’s let the silence drag on and Even is now looking at him with amusement. He rolls his eyes, stomach tight and clicks off his phone.

 

“What were you writing about?” Even seems more awake now, sitting up on his elbows.

 

“Uh,” Isak coughs. “Nothing really, I mean…”

 

“It’s okay,” Even interrupts him softly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

 

“No it’s not that,” Isak assures. “It’s just stupid.” Embarrassing.

 

“Doesn’t sound stupid.” Even whispers and the look in his eyes is magnetic. Dark and soft at the same time. Something builds in the air between them, electric. An ember sparks to life in the pit of Isak’s stomach and his cock twitches.

 

“I guess not?” Isak murmurs, not really sure what they were talking about. Even’s shuffled closer in the silence and their noses are just barely brushing now.

 

“Isak,” Even’s voice is a low rumble now. His hand comes up to trail along Isak’s cheek.

 

“Yea?” God his voice is so breathy he should be embarrassed, but all he can think about is how Even’s nose feels against his, how blue his eyes are this close, like Isak could swim in them, how full his mouth is oh-

 

They’re kissing again just like that, lips softly pressing together. Even makes a noise in his throat and threads his fingers through Isak’s hair making his toes curl and a whine escape him. Their bodies press together, warm skin on skin and Isak feels Even’s hard dick against his thigh.

 

It’s slow this time. Perfect. He wants to live inside this moment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Things slot into place and it’s good. The boys hoot over them for a little bit and Jonas looks smug as hell. Even holds Isak’s hand when they walk to the tram station. Eskild rolls his eyes in a maternal manner and clucks at them when he runs into them in the early hours in the hallway. And Isak is stupid, and Isak forgets.

 

He’s shopping for bread of all things, when he runs into Even and his mom.

 

“Isak!” Even grins in surprise, but he leans over to give him a kiss on the cheek. As he pulls back he turns towards Lara but she’s already saying,

 

“Isak it’s great to see you again,”

 

“What,” Even laughs, looking between the two of them. He’s still smiling. “You two know each other?”

 

“Uh-“ Isak’s mouth gapes like a fish. Lara’s eyes are wide. Isak can almost pinpoint the moment when it all starts to go to hell.

 

“What’s going on?” The laughter starts to die in Even’s eyes, probably because he can tell that Isak is freaking the fuck out. “Mom?” He turns to his mom, who granted looks pretty embarrassed.

 

“Well,” Lara begins. “It’s my fault.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So, my mom was paying you this whole time?” Even’s face is pallid. He looks at Isak like he doesn’t recognize him. It makes Isak’s skin crawl, breath catching in his throat.

 

“I meant to tell you,” Isak stutters, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands where they’re pressed against his sides. He stops to gather his thoughts that feel like they’re buzzing around in his head and has to swallow a couple of times to stave off a rush of nausea that threatens to suffocate him.  “I just couldn’t figure out how to without it sounding like…I-I had actually met you, you know…before…before I even saw the flyer. I mean-” He bites his lip hard to cut off his rambling and hunches his shoulders up under his ears.

 

“I see,” Even’s looking out over the fjord now and the rising sun casts him in sharp relief. His hair is a golden halo around his head. His eyes are almost clear in the morning light. Bleak and unreadable. He looks unearthly, like something Isak dreamt up, like he could disappear with the dawn. Like in some universe, he never was. His mouth is pinched and unhappy.

 

 _Just look at me,_ Isak thinks silently. _Just let me explain. Just-_

 

“I was so unhappy before I knew you,” He whispers, throat tight. The wind makes his voice sound weak. He swallows, swallows again and wills himself to just once, be strong.  “I didn’t even know how unhappy I was.”

 

Even doesn’t speak, but eventually he does nod into the silence that stretches between them like an old rubber band. Like sharp glass. _Say something_ , Isak tells himself, but for some reason he can’t speak.

 

“I see,” Even says again, to the water.

 

 _No,_ Isak thinks, but in this universe he can’t find the strength to speak. _You don’t see at all._ They stand there for some long agonizing minutes, neither of them saying anything, Isak staring at Even, Even staring out over the water. Eventually Even puts his hands in his pockets, bites his lip and walks slowly away. Isak watches him go, every iota of him wanting to cry out. He says nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Time is weird after that. He finds himself sitting on the park bench, hands under his legs, face numb in the cold. He scrubs his cheek against his shoulder and sniffles. He finds himself on his apartment block, hunched against the brisk wind then pressing his bedroom door closed, blessedly alone. 

 

Maybe it’s alright, he tries to console himself as he crawls into bed and presses his head against the pillow. In some universe it works out Isak, he thinks as he starts to cry. In some universe you deserve him. God damn it, you planned for this you stupid boy. Why are you so hurt?

 

Unfortunately, the world does not end with Isak Valtersen’s stupid broken heart. He’s still got to get up the next morning and trudge to his gross anatomy lecture. The winter sun is unseasonably bright, and he’s got his beanie pulled down and his hood up, earbuds in so he can’t hear anything around him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Two weeks passes like that, in some fugue grey haze. He goes to his classes and talks to his friends but it’s like an automaton Isak has taken over his body, it’s not him - he’s somewhere else.

 

He goes to see his mom at the end of the month, and in the quiet warmth of her kitchen watches her putter around and talk to him about the baking lessons she’s getting.

 

“That’s great Mama,” He smiles and it feels strange; tight. He realizes he can’t remember the last time he’s smiled.

 

“How are you baby?” She asks, over a steaming cup of coffee. Her green eyes are so soft and bright Isak can’t bring himself to ruin the moment.

 

“I’m fine Mama,” He promises. “I’m glad to see you.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sleep is an ever evasive creature.  Isak finds himself writing more than he has since he was eleven. Stupid things, things that he deletes shortly afterwards. Things he saves and buries into the depths of his computer where they can rot until the slow decay of his circuit board is complete. He sits, in his fortress of blankets, hair greasy, clothes unwashed and wishes he’d done anything differently.

 

On some Sunday, Eskild drags him out of his room and strips his bed of his dirty sheets, griping the whole time. He pushes Isak into the bathroom and commands him to bathe _or else_ , and Isak goes into the shower and gives himself a cursory wipe down.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Even,

 

I’m sitting on the tram on the way to your apartment to give Elias this letter. Outside it’s beginning to snow. Soon it will be 21:21 and I want to tell you so many things. I wish I were brave and I told you the truth in the beginning, instead of letting you walk away thinking I never cared for you.

I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was afraid of losing you but it turns out that happened anyway. If I were braver, I would have said: I’m in love with you. If I were braver, I would have said: please don’t go.

I wrote your movie, but please don’t feel any obligation to read it. I wish I was selfless enough not to give it to you.

In some universe, I hope I deserve you.

Love you.

Isak

 

 

And the wind spoke to me through the leaves; something in the language of trees. It was your name and the sounds of your footsteps in the rain and how I couldn’t make myself say _I love you -_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Let him go,_ he thinks, watching the rain thud against his bedroom window and travel slowly down the glass. The sky beyond is grey. It’s for the best, he tells himself, swiping furiously at his eyes. He didn’t know the first thing about loving someone right.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Another week passes. _April is the cruelest month_ , Isak thinks, and then he laughs under his breath at his sheer emo behavior. 2017 Isak would have kicked his own ass. The woman sitting next to him on the tram gives him a look and switches seats at the next stop. He gets off near the park and walks through the avenue of winter bare trees, listening to the frost crunch under his feet.

 

Later that week he agrees to go out with Jonas and the boys and gets blissfully drunk. He thinks he has fun. He doesn’t really remember.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s 03:45 on a Thursday when Even’s name lights up his screen. Isak stares for a moment, wondering if he’s dreaming. He answers it.

 

“Did you write this?” Even asks. His voice is muffled like maybe he has his mouth pressed against the receiver.

 

Isak bites his shaky lip. Presses the glass screen hard against his ear until there’s a sharp pain.

 

“Yes,” he grits out against the flood that rises up inside of him. Swallows and then swallows again.

 

“Swear?” There’s a crackle of static coming from farther away. Something that makes Isak think of a book dropping across the hall, or footsteps from another room. Audible but unclear.

 

Isak’s throat hurts. “I swear, Even. I swear.”

 

There’s a moment between the two of them, where the static is the loudest thing on the line and it sizzles like an angry snake or the rustling of lake reeds shaking against each other in the wind.  There’s a moment where Isak holds his breath and his heart beat pulses like a clarion cry in his ears and his face feels wet and his fingers clench impossibly tight around the telephone, and he prays to a God he only seems to find inside of moments like these, but it’s only a moment in this universe and then Even makes his choice,

 

His laugh is shaky, like a new born colt, “Isak,” he says softly. He says Isak’s name like it’s a gift, every time, “Isak, you do know me. You do.”

 

God, Isak feels sorry for the poor bastard in the universe where Even says nothing at all. But not sorry enough that he doesn’t nearly pass out from the wave of relief that floods through him, and then they’re laughing and crying together on the line with the strange static passing between them and out into the night.

 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Isak gasps out, dizzy with relief. He blinks the tears away from his eyes.

 

“Come over,” Even’s voice is thick and Isak’s heart stutters at how deep it sounds. God, ok.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I can’t believe you wrote me my movie,” Even whispers, nearly silent. It’s much later and they’re lying together in Even’s bed and Even is slowly running his fingers through Isak’s hair. 

 

“Well someone had to,” Isak shifts, blissful at the way their skin is pressed together. “How else could I make sure there’d actually be some sort of tree conversation in there? Can’t have it all be pretentious bullshit.”

 

Even laughs against his hair, “Of course.” he says, voice soft. There’s a moment where he nuzzles against Isak’s head and then, “The ending is so sad.”

 

Isak tilts his head up to brush their noses together. “I thought you liked sad endings,” he whispers against Even’s mouth, before kissing him.

 

When Even eventually pulls away, his mouth is red. “Eh,” he smiles, and his eyes say _hello isak, hello._ “they’re overrated.”

 

 

THE END

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dear Even,

 

I’m sitting on the tram on the way to your apartment to give Elias this letter. Outside it’s beginning to snow. Soon it will be 21:21 and I want to tell you so many things. I wish I were brave and I told you the truth in the beginning, instead of letting you walk away thinking I never cared for you.

I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I was afraid of losing you but it turns out that happened anyway. If I were braver, I would have said: I’m in love with you. If I were braver, I would have said: please don’t go.

I wrote your movie, but please don’t feel any obligation to read it. I wish I was selfless enough not to give it to you.

In some universe, I hope I deserve you.

Love you.

Isak

 

 

And the wind spoke to me through the leaves - something in the language of trees. It was your name and the sounds of your footsteps in the rain and how I couldn’t make myself say _I love you._

 

_ something in the language of trees _

 

 

 

In the saddest universe, you never loved him. No, that’s not quite right. In the saddest universe, you never knew him at all.

 

Now, you sit at your IKEA kitchen table in your new house on the water, and you let yourself think it.

 

Your suit collar is stiff against your neck and you remember the feel of his long fingers pressing there. A lifetime ago or maybe so far back now, it never was.

 

But you remember, how in the dark the way his eyes would always be clear when they looked into yours. In a crowded room somehow, still just the two of you. You remember the way his lips said your name.

 

The apple tree in the back yard has a twisted trunk. There are kudzu vines crawling up from the ground, choking it. You think, how can it not realize the inevitability of its own demise? So slow, so slow it welcomes death unconsciously.

 

Maybe you can create this history for yourself. You think that after everything, you could deserve this.

 

There is the memory of the autumn, him in his hoodie you bought and a battered red rowboat pulled up onto the rocks along a hidden beach on Hovedøya. Down some hallowed road lined with birch, and fields and fields of wild flowers. At some point, he’s pressed a dandelion behind your ear. At some point he’s kissed you and you’ve opened yourself up to him in the grass.

 

You laugh at him and dare him to stick his feet in the water, knowing he’s afraid it’s too cold. He’s grinning and you are too. The sun is hot on the back of your neck. Maybe you love him, maybe you don’t. At this point, it doesn’t seem important.

 

You remember how serious he looked when he thumbed through the maps, how his tongue delved into the corner of his lip barely containing itself with glee. You loved him then, for sure.

 

In the saddest universe, your father never left; he didn’t have to, to ruin you. Here’s the best part: you ruin yourself.

 

You never turn your head on the tram that day when you’re texting your roommate  - I forgot my key. Or when he asks you about that party on Friday – are you going? In this version, you say – no – and you mean it.

 

In this version you keep walking; kicking at the heels of your buddy who brags about the girl he tried to fuck the night before.

 

In the saddest universe, this is it. You don’t grow up in this story the right way. You become someone else. You become.

 

There’s school, and boys like always. Eventually, you graduate. You’re making bank, your friends say so you’re alive. You are. Alive?

 

You spend almost every night in some kind of club, money running off the palms of your hands like water. You bring home every kind of person: redheads, blonds, brunettes. They smile at you when you buy them a drink and their mouths taste like grenadine; like slow acting poison.

 

In the morning, you leave them in your bed and go to work. Your secretary, Lena, puts a cup of coffee on your desk and for a moment, a memory calls to you. Cold metal and a winter sunrise. The rush of an old tram passing by. Blue eyes.

 

You have a headache. Lena asks you if you’re alright and you smile and say,

 

“Sure.”

 

Thirty years later you look in the mirror and see your father.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In the saddest universe, none of this is relevant:

 

The face in the mirror, the eyebrow of your father. The brick by the palace you can’t help but trip over every single fucking day even though you know it’s loose. In every universe, probably.

 

This is significant:

 

On Sunday’s you sometimes take the ferry out to Hovedøya and walk through the ruins of the monastery with your hands in your pockets. You wander down the trails cut through tall grass and mouth the names of the flowers to yourself: daisies, buttercups, dandelions. Sometimes you stumble upon a half remembered beach and listen to the rocks grind under your shoes as you look out over the water. The horizon is like a pane of glass. Above and below, the same slow world of clouds. The wind blows your sweaty hair off your forehead and you realize you’re too tired to speak. You want to find your way home but you don’t know where it is.

 

You have a crumpled photograph in your pocket of a boy with lovely hair. You knew him once, you think. You’re not sure anymore.

 

You fist your hand, cup the worn picture in your calloused palm. Fuck, you wish you knew him still.

 

 _If love was a bird,_ you think. _I’d let it go._

 

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves in the trees. _Maybe you did,_ the birches mourn with you, _maybe you did._

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
